


Hallelujah

by eclipselotus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drugs, M/M, Molestation, Nightmares, Threats, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipselotus/pseuds/eclipselotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles’ mother and Derek's father married, but Stiles had a huge secret—sleeping with his sadistic stepfather every weekend as an ugly promise that his stepfather would keep his mother happy forever.  Everyone was oblivious about it.  Who would find out about that secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was very similar to Zankoku na Kami ga Shihai Suru, one of my favorite manga I used to read it back in my high school. Some of you might read it before. My story will contain Stiles’ and Derek’s POV and a different ending. WARNING: this story contains rape, sexual abuse, BDSM without consent, and non-consensual relationship, and other tags I will add if you identify something. If you can’t handle reading this, then please don’t read it. Thank you. Oh, the grammar errors are all mine since I have no beta reader or editor and English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy reading my story, and…I would appreciate if you give me some feedback that would be nice!

****

# PROLOGUE

****

**Beacon Hills—December 27, 1958**

As the rain was heavily pounding on his shoulders, Derek Hale stood next to the tree and watched the eight men in mourning dress carrying the chestnut wooden coffin out of the Beacon Hills church. Admittedly, he didn’t realize that it was a funeral today because it utterly happened in a blink. He glanced at his uncle Peter who sniveled sadly, and he whispered, “Is it a really accident?”

Peter’s eyes filled with tears, “Yes, Derek.” He looked away from him and he murmured, “Poor Stiles.” 

Derek followed his gaze and he saw Stiles staring at the coffin that was being lowered in the ground. Somehow, Stiles looked stunningly exquisite when he cried. Derek walked toward him and he called his name, but Stiles did not respond. 

He shouted, “Stiles!” He grabbed his arm, shaking him in order to snap him out of his reverie, “Stiles.”

Stiles kept locking his gaze on the coffin as he trembled his lips. With a small annoying feeling, Derek asked him, “Are you all right?” He mesmerized how the tears rolled down on his cheeks until he made a quiet snarl when he overheard the guests murmuring loudly.

_Look, it’s Stiles._

_Oh, Claudia’s beloved son. He’s too young to be an orphan. His mother shouldn’t die because she was too beautiful to die._

_George was still alive?_

_Yes, he ended up being in the coma. I don’t think he would be alive._

He scowled, and he tried to calm himself down, wishing he didn’t listen to them. He assured that his father would recover soon hopefully. He looked back to Stiles and he furrowed his brows when Stiles broke his voice, “Should have...died.” Something was really disturbing when he spoke eerily, “He should...why mama was in the house?” He closed his mouth and he sobbed with overwhelming tears that beautifully streamed down on his cheeks. He tried to walk away from him, but he almost collapsed. 

Derek wrapped his arm around his waist to walk him out of the funeral. He wanted him to say again.

_I thought something was not quite right here._

_Why a sudden accident?_

_It was not an accident!_

He desperately erased his negative delusional thoughts, although he stared at him. Stiles still looked forbiddingly beautiful when he wept with lovely long lashes that were dark. They really stood out.

_He’s a murderer! He’s using an angelic mask right now! Don’t be fooled by him, DEREK!_


	2. Chapter 2

****

**Venice, Italy—May 8, 1958-August 31, 1958**

After a brief date with his girlfriend at the small café, Stiles went to see his mother at her small antique store and he came in, hearing an angry shout when he came in, “I want that!” He spotted a man who wore a light mocha three-piece suit and a hat

His mother cried out with a shocked expression, “Stiles!” 

The man glared at her and he left.

Stiles muttered, “Looks like I scared off your customer.”

His mother scoffed, “Oh no, you saved me. He demanded me to sell this valuable item.” She pointed at the hand carved jade handle Mughal dagger jeweled with ruby and emerald stones in a floral design with gold wires, “I couldn’t sell this.”

He whispered, glancing at the man in the corner of his eye, “He’s still here.” His mother covered her mouth and widened her eyes. They waited for him to leave, but he didn’t. He told her to stay right here, so he went to talk with him.

He called him, “Sir.”

The man turned around and he scowled, “Who are you?”

He replied, “I am her son. Look. I am here to talk about the dagger you want to buy. She can’t sell it because it’s just precious to her.” 

The man sighed, “I have one, so I need that one. They would be a complete set.”

He said, “What if someone tried to buy it from you?”

The man shook his head, “No, I won’t.”

He raised his brow, “Exactly. That’s why she refused to sell it. Not just because it was a rare item. It was actually a gift from my late father.”

The man tightened his jaws, lowering his burning gaze down on him, “I’ll be staying here for a few more days. I am at the Sheraton Warsaw Hotel because...” 

He flinched a bit when the man sneered, “I am not going to leave here without your mother’s dagger. I’ll be back.” The man walked away.

_What a stubborn man._

 

They were in the small staff room in the back of antique store and they drank tea. 

“I hope he wouldn't come here again,” his mother cupped a cup of green tea with her delicate hands and set it down. 

He asked, “Is it really valuable? The dagger?”

She shrugged, “I don't know. Your dad liked to collect old daggers and other old items.” This small beautiful store that located near the narrow water corridor was actually belonged to his late father, and they didn’t know what to do with his store after he passed away from being killed by the bomb five days after his 49th birthday nine years ago, although his mother was willing to become an owner.

He glanced through the window, “I missed him.”

“Me too,” she stood up and put the teacup in the sink, “I have to close this store early. My friend needs my help for the party tonight.”

He watched his mother grabbing her jacket and purse, “So you won’t come back tonight?” 

“Yes.”

He walked with her outside the store and his mother locked the door. She turned around and she grabbed his cheek, smiling, “Behave well, Stiles!” Before he nodded, she kissed him on each cheek. They walked in different directions.

 

Two weeks passed, he started to worry about his mother because she did not return home. Luckily, she actually called him on the second day after she left the antique store for the party. She informed him that she was on the mini vacation. _A mini vacation? With whom?_ He took her position at the antique store temporarily, depending on his various shifts, while he still attended the public school. He enjoyed hanging out with his bunch of friends. He totally forgot about his mother.

One day, his world was creaking and trembling until it was upside down when his mother exaggeratedly showed off her 18-carat diamond ring in the front of his eyes. Sitting up on the bed, he rubbed his eyes and he blinked at her ring before looking at her in disbelief and stammering, “You—you’re engaged!” 

She nodded with rosy cheeks, “Yes, I am!”

He gestured toward her ring with his wide eyes, “Who proposed you?”

“It’s George Hale!”

He frowned, “George Hale? Who’s he?”

She fell in love with her new ring, “Do you remember that man who wanted my dagger?”

He widened his eyes, “What!?” 

She smiled, “We unexpectedly met again at the party and he asked me to dance with him. You have no idea how hard my heart pounded. He’s really handsome. He has a pair of beautiful emerald eyes.” 

He grabbed her left hand, showing some concern, as he bursts out saying, “You barely know him!” 

She calmed him down motherly, “That’s why we went out on the mini vacation and we got to know about each other.”

He gulped and he sighed, “Is he...the right man for you?” She nodded with tears of joys, “Yes, Stiles.”

He wrapped his arms around her and he laughed, “Congratulation. He should be nice to me this time.” She burst out laughing and sobbing cheerfully. They pulled away from each other, and she said, “I want you to meet him again.”

“Okay.”

She patted his leg under the cozy blanket, “Be ready in twenty minutes.” She left his bedroom as she closed the door behind her.

He stared at the door, swung his legs on the edge of mattress, and dropped his elbows on his kneecaps. 

_I hope he’s the right man for her…_

 

They went to the fancy restaurant called Osteria Boccadoro by riding on the gondola and they greeted George Hale who sat at the table under the trees with lavender flowers. She went to kiss him on the lips.

_It’s really strange to see her kissing a man, other than his late father. I mean I'd seen the picture of my parents kissing._

She touched his shoulders, smiling blithely, “George, this is my son, Stiles.” He asked curiously, “Mr. Hale. Do Americans kiss on each cheek?”

George released a thick chuckle, “No, we usually shake our hands. Please call me George.”

Stiles said, “Oh.”

George lifted his hand, so Stiles shook it with his hand before they were sitting at the small table and enjoying their meal.

George said, “I heard that you are 15 years old.”

Stiles nodded and he wiped his mouth with the napkin before replying politely, “Yes.” His mother subtly bragged, “He is one of the top students at his school.” George raised his brow, “Is that so? My son’s a really popular student, but his grade is mediocre.”

He added, “He’s about withdrawing from the rebellion stage. Thank goodness.”

_Oh, he must be teenager._

Stiles asked them, “When you will marry my mama?” His mother opened her mouth as if she was about scolding him, but his fiancé held her hand, “We’ve not decided yet, but I hope we can marry as soon as possible.”

_As soon as possible? They are together for a few weeks!_

He nodded, “Mama, you will move to live with him?”

George replied for her, “Yes. I would appreciate if you want to live with us.”

Stiles said, “I am not sure.” He explained, “I’ve been here since I was born. This is my hometown.” He hoped that George could understand.

George nodded, “That’s fine. I always welcome you if you can visit us someday.”

_Well, I think he’s a good man._

 

Five days after the breakfast with Stiles and his mother, sometimes Stiles rolled his eyes at his mother chatting with his fiancé on the telephone and he was really happy for her.

After the school, he strolled down on the way to his house and he stopped by the man with a pair of black sunglasses. He started to recognize his face, “Mr. Hale!”

George frowned, “I told you to call me George.”

“Oh sorry, George,” Stiles opened the door and let him come in. He chuckled, closing the door behind him, “Sorry about the mess in the living room.”

“Oh that’s fine. My daughter never cleans her room.”

Stiles put his backpack on the hook at the wall and he insisted him to sit on the love seat. He asked him, “Would you like some drink? We have orange juice, apple juice, or apple cider?”

“I would like to have a glass of apple cider with ice cubes.”

Few minutes later, he carried a tray with a glass of orange juice and a glass of apple cider with ice cubes and set it on the coffee table. He handed the glass of apple cider to him. 

“Thank you, Stiles,” George sipped it and held it with his right hand.

Stiles said, “Does my mother scare you off yet?”

George shook his head, amused by his silly question, “No. She’s a lovely monster. By the way, she doesn’t know that I am here.”

Stiles opened his mouth, “Oh! She will cry with tears of joy when she will see you again.”

George agreed. They kept talking about random things until George brought up a question about his father, “What happened to your father? Your mother didn’t want to tell me about him. Were they—“

Assuming that George thought his parents might have a bad relationship, Stiles smiled sadly, “No.” He shifted his weight on the sofa in an effort to get comfortable and he crossed his legs, “My dad was a lieutenant during WW2…he was killed in the bomb in 1944.” 

_I had no idea what he looked like because my mother burned all of the pictures of him._

George touched his shoulder. _He touched my shoulder._ He whispered, “I am sorry about your loss.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t remember him.”

“I will be your new father,” he moved his hand from his shoulder to wrap around his neck, “Stiles, you will come to Beacon Hills with us?” 

Trying to scoot away from him, Stiles stuttered, “What are you doing?” He found him disturbing when George mentioned that he had a beautiful pair of amber eyes and moles spattering all over his face and neck like stars in the dazzling sky.

_A MOLESTOR!_

He stood up, but George wrapped his arms around his waist before pinning him to the sofa and hovering over him like a dangerous black panther. He tried to push him off and he screamed, but George cut him off by kissing him passionately and he whispered into his ear, “I love you, Stiles.”

With all of his strength, he shoved him and screamed, pointing at the door, “Get out of my house! Do not see my mama ever again!”

George kneeled on the floor and begged, “Listen to me, I love your mother as much as I love you.”

Stiles wiped the taste of George’s salvia off his lips with the back of his hand and he spat, “Go to hell!” George shouted, “I love her as the same as I love you!” Stiles’s stomach flipped repeatedly and he felt he was about puking anytime. He screamed at him, “Go to hell!” It took George few minutes to leave the house quietly, but he gave him a sly smirk.

_What the fuck._

 

Not long after the shocking incident of receiving a disturbing kiss from his mother’s fiancé, he sat on the sofa and he waited for his mother to come back home, but she was late over 5 pm. He started to imagine that George might did something wrong to his mother? He ran to grab his shoulder before leaving the house. He went to the antique store and he whispered when he opened the door, “Mama?” She wasn’t at the front desk.

His heart pounded heavily as his breathing became difficult until he heard the soft sound of crying in the break room. He closed the door behind him and he walked into the hall until he stopped by the door of break room. He reached the knob and twisted it to open the door, “Mama?”

He gasped at the sight of his mother curling up on the floor and he thought fast by kneeling down next to her and touching her back. He tried not to be in panic. 

“Mama. Are you hurt?”

She sobbed hysterically, “I-I…I…got a call…from George.”

_Did she know about it?_

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face on his stomach, and she sniffled, “He didn’t want to marry me!”

“You shouldn’t marry him.”

She jolted her head up with a glare, and then she broke her voice, “I love him so much!”

_You’re blind to his true color!_

He threw his arms in the air, “You have no idea what he had done to me!”

Her face crunched into confusion, “He’s here? I didn’t know. What happened? Did you two get into a fight?” He noticed that her mascara smeared underneath her eyes; her eyes weren’t bright amber. Looked like the whiteness of her soul was draining.

He did not respond to her question.

She whined, “Did you scare him off?”

He internally screamed and he had no idea how to explain that her fiancé actually kissed him. _What disgusting!_ He shook his head and he stood up, looking down, “Mama, no. He’s insane!”

Standing up, she hollered, “Apologize to him! That’s why he didn’t want to marry me because you didn’t like him! Just go to see him and apologize to him!” 

_I beg your pardon? I liked him until he kissed me that caused me to dislike him._

She wept, “He’s a nicest man I’ve ever dated in my whole life.”

He groaned as he waved his hands in the air dismissively, “Mama. Forget about him. You should deserve someone better than him.” 

She bumped his shoulder as she ran past him, “He’s a perfect man for me. You ruined everything!” She locked herself in the bathroom and kept weeping.

He sat on the chair, elbowing on the table, and he sighed exhaustively. 

_Well, she will recover from the broken heart in no time._

 

Of course, he was _wrong_. 

Every night, he woke up to the sound of bottles clanking on the floors, a chair falling, and crying. He thought her usual routine of experiencing the heart broken would end in the sixth or seventh day, but it lasted more than three weeks! He groaned and he forced himself to sleep.

_Just one more day. She will go back normal._

In the morning, he went to meet his friends at the park and enjoyed chatting with them. Daniel, a mutual friend through Heather, whispered into his ear, “Look.” He followed his gaze and he raised his brows at the sight of the dark tanned boy named Danny talking with an older man in a nice black suit. 

_I know him. He went to my school, but he dropped out in the middle of his second year of high school._

Daniel made a look, “Did you hear some rumor about him?”

Stiles shook his head.

Daniel whispered, “He’s a whore. He’s selling himself to men.” 

_That’s gross._

Daniel laughed, “Whoa. Look at you.”

Stiles frowned, “What’s so funny?”

Daniel snickered, “You can qualify as a prostitute with your pretty face.” Stiles punched him on the arm and he sneered, “Shut up.”

_Don’t remind me. I tried to forget that asshole._

 

After hanging out with his friends, he went home and came into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, but he realized that everything was super quiet except the bird chirping. He closed it and he went to check on his mother in her bedroom. He knocked on her door twice that was one of the house rules and he went ahead to open it. He gasped, mortified by seeing the pile of blood underneath her body, and he screamed, “Mama!” 

_Shit! She’s attempting to commit suicide!_


	3. Chapter 3

****

**Venice, Italy—May 8, 1958-August 31, 1958**

Stiles stared through the window and he patiently waited to receive some updates from the doctor. He rubbed his hands all over his face.

_I shouldn’t oppose their marriage. I shouldn’t say something cruel to her. It’s my fault._

“George?”

He looked up, confused, “No, I am her son. I am Stiles Stilinski. Is she okay?”

The blue-eyed doctor nodded, “She’s okay. She got 18 stitches on each wrist. Not to mention, she’s also suffering from acute alcohol poisoning. Is she alcoholic?” 

He shrugged, “She tried to be sober for years.”

The doctor frowned, “Oh I see. Who’s George?”

He flatly replied, “Her former fiancé.”

The doctor sighed, “I wonder….can he come to see your mother? I think she is likely going to recover faster.” 

_Man…I have no choice. Should I call George and tell him to come here right away? I don’t know. I don’t want him to touch or kiss me again. He’s creeping me out._

He sighed, “Okay, I might call him. As soon as possible.” 

The doctor gave him a smile and he left.

 

He returned to his house and he sat on the couch, staring at the small television. He closed his eyes and he remembered that eight years ago, her mother came into his bedroom to interrupt his sleep. He wake up and saw his mother showing her wrists, “They’re bleeding. They can’t stop bleeding.”

He was horrified to see the blood. He was only 8 years old. He didn’t know what he would do to comfort his mother, so he decided to call his aunt, Angelina who was the older sister of his mother. Angelina quickly came and took his mother to the hospital. Not to mention, she planned to adopt him because she told her that she’s an unfit and ignorant mother. His mother begged her not to take him away from him and she explained to her that she just couldn’t move on from mourning over the loss of her husband. 

He knew she wasn’t strong. 

_She’s fragile. She could easily cry, but she stopped crying when she dated George Hale and she…was like she found her light. It was fucking George Hale who also loved me, too._

He rubbed his hands all over his face and he grabbed the telephone. 

He heard his voice, “Hello. This is George Hale speaking.”

He shuddered at how thick his voice was, “It’s me, Stiles.”

“Oh, you can’t stop thinking—“

He stopped him to speak anything when he cried out, “My mother’s in the hospital!”

“What! Is she okay?”

He bit his lips as he grasped the spiral cord with his hand angrily, “She tried to commit suicide by slitting her wrists last night.”

He heard him utterly stuttering, “She did it?”

_I couldn’t stand his voice._

He wished he would hang up on him, but the words came out of his mouth, dammit, “Yes. I need you to come to see her.”

“But we’re not dating anymore.”

He hissed loudly, “It’s your fault! You’re the one that broke off the engagement! You asshole!”

“I didn’t mean to break it off. I still love her.”

He covered his eyes with his hand, begging, “Just come.”

“One condition.”

He had butterflies in his stomach, breathing heavily, “What is it?”

“Remember I told you I love you. I am not lying. I love you. I want to make you mine. Please just once.”

He shook his head, “No. You’re insane.”

“Just once, I promise. After that, everything will be fine. Stiles…”

He scoffed exaggeratedly, “I can’t do it!”

“I won’t marry your mother. Tell her that I love her, but I couldn’t be with her. Give her a sweet farewell.”

_What!? He couldn’t do that to my mother. My mother will keep going to commit suicide! No, I can’t lose my mother!_

He stood up, hollering, “Don’t hang up!” He bit the nail of his thumb,” What do you want from me?”

“I want to hold you and…roam my hands all over you.”

He whispered, “I am not a girl.”

“I don’t care about the fact that you are a boy. If you refuse my request, then I won’t marry your mother.”

He slowly sat down on the sofa and his mouth became dry, “Okay…let me think about it.”

“Let me know in 2 hours.”

The line ended.

He covered his mouth with his hands and he shut his eyes tightly, holding his scream back. He rocked back and forth.

_What do I do? What do I do?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains rape and sexual abuse. Please don't read it if you are not comfortable.

**Venice, Italy—May 8, 1958-August 31, 1958**

On June 14th, he leaned on the doorframe, watching his mother who cuddled with her fiancé on the hospital bed after receiving a bouquet of white tulips and a passionate kiss from him. He had no choice, but he wanted her to be happy again. He wouldn’t let his wall down when he was around this molester. He looked up when the nurse came up behind him and she informed them that the time’s almost up.

George told Claudia that he would visit her tomorrow and he left.

Stiles sat next to her, brushing her long hair with his fingers gently, and he listened to her weeping with tears of joy, “He still loves me.” He gave her an unwilling smile, “He does.”

She smiled, “Thank you.”

He got off the bed and he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “Mama, get some sleep.” She patted his cheek gently, telling how thoughtful he was.

_I am having a deal with your fiancé aka the molester._

He left the room, closing the door behind him, and he found George in the waiting room. George stood up and he smiled, “I am glad that she’s recovering well.”

Stiles scratched the base of his neck, “Yes…”

George smiled, “Let’s go.”

 

Stiles learned that George owned a tiny cottage Stiles since he bought it as a gift for his deceased wife, and he thought it was creepy because he was going to have one night stand in his deceased wife’s favorite house. He shuddered at the thought. He unbuttoned his white shirt, respond to George’s question, “Her favorite flower is red lilac.” He slowly looked over his shoulder and saw George sitting on the red velvet chair and watching him lustfully.

“I will keep that in my mind from now. What about you?”

With his gaze on the transparent white curtained window, he shrugged off the white shirt, trembling slightly, “I like red lotus.”

“I can imagine that you are lying down underneath the petals of red lotuses on the bed and spreading your legs. Beg me to thrust you without mercy.”

_STILES, DON’T LET HIM TO DO THIS TO YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?_

He hitched a long breath. He removed his jeans and shoes except his white brief before turning around on his heels and shivering when George’s eyes went up and down his body. 

“Take it off.”

He whimpered, “I don’t want to have a sex.” He gasped when George stood up and walked toward him. 

George cupped his cheeks, whispering, “Don’t be scared of me.” He pressed his lips on his lips and plunged his tongue inside his mouth. He pinned him on the bed and kneeled between his legs, spreading his legs slowly, “This is a love.”

Stiles shook his head, “No, this isn’t.”

George grabbed his jaws tightly and he glared at him, “I paid prostitutes and I didn’t love them.” He leaned closer to his face, breathing with a reek of 1955 Drambuie Liqueur whiskey, and he nibbled his lobe, “You’re not a prostitute. This is a love between us.”

_He’s fucking delusional._

Stiles widened his eyes at the sight of him pouring the lube on his left fingers.

_STILES. You need to cancel this deal!_

_This is one time deal! Deal with it like a man! I can do it._

He bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily, when George’s finger prodded into his hole smoothly and he chuckled, “You’re tight. Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. Foreplay is important.”

He lied.

 

_It was brutal!_

 

George fucked him with no mercy, sometimes slapping him in the face and telling him not to cry. He did many sexual things to him Stiles never had experienced before. Stiles couldn’t help crying constantly and almost fainting at the sight of blood dripping from his nose on the blue and white striped cased pillow. Freezing, he gasped at the shooting load of his semen inside his hole and he sank his head on the pillow in disbelief. He felt a hot hand on his back.

“Good boy. You’re doing well.”

_What I have done to myself?_

 

In the morning, he went back home without George and he heard a telephone ringing. He was about running, but he bit his lips at the sharp pang from his hole. He managed to pick it up and he whispered, “This is Stiles Stilinski.”

“You still sound funny. Are you okay?”

_Heather. I haven’t hang out with her lately since I took care of my mama for days._

He pretended to cough, “Just a minor cold.”

“I am sorry to hear that. Guess what?”

He burst out asking, “Did your grandmother die?”

It was nice to hear her sweet laughter, “I wish. Do you want to come with me to Rome with my family on June 28th.”

He frowned, “I will think about it.”

“Okay. Get well!”

He closed his eyes, “Thanks.”

He hung it up and he ran to the bathroom. He turned the hot water on and he scrubbed his body with a sponge everywhere. 

_I still feel his hands roaming all over my body. I am dirty. I am the same as Danny who sold himself for drugs. I sold myself to him for begging him to marry my mother and keeping her happy forever._

The steaming water was pounding on the top of his head, he sobbed and buried his face onto his palms.

_I am dirty._


	5. Chapter 5

****

**Venice, Italy—May 8, 1958-August 31, 1958**

Stiles had been endured with a shocking fact that he had been forced to have a sex with his mother’s fiancé, George, and he thought he was doing the right thing for his mother’s sake.

He had no choice.

He had been avoided George for eleven days since June 14th, though he was very careful when it was a good time to go to visit her mother because he accidentally bumped into George at the small park outside the hospital that rocketed his heart at the sight of his face. He started to experience bursting flashbacks, and then he attempted to run away, but George wrapped his arm around him and leaned down to kiss him. Therefore, he didn’t want to meet him at the hospital and he informed his mother that he was multitasking many things. Her mother told him not to worry about her since she had George.

After a brief conversation with her mother, he walked on the way to Heather’s house and found her cutting the leaves of yellow roses at the window on the third floor. He waved his hand, “Heather!” 

Heather widened her eyes, waving back excitedly, “No long time seeing you! Come inside!” 

As he was coming when she opened the door, he kissed her on the lips briefly and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled away from her and asked her how she was doing.

She closed the door behind her and she turned around on her heels. She sat on the sofa, patting on the available cushioned seat, “I am great, thank you for asking. Sit down.”

He sat next to her.

She crossed her legs properly, grinning, as she cuddled with him, “Why didn’t you tell me about your mother’s engagement?”

_Oh Heather, don’t bring this discussion up._

He dramatically sighed, elbowing on the arm of sofa, as he glanced at her, “Who told you?”

She raised her brow at the question and she quickly replied, “Didn’t you forget the fact that our mothers are best friends? Sounds like you are not happy about it?”

He felt an urge to itch his whole body since it was remembering the sense of touch—the thick hands sexually roaming and groping everywhere. His ears filled with heavy blood, hearing the lust whispers from the...man with a pair of glossy dilated heterochromatic eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, inhaling slowly, and he spoke, “It’s not like I was opposed to their marriage. I am just...worrying that he might not be the right man for her.”

“Oh, Stiles,” she placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, as she smiled, “Did you know that we have a great intuition?”

He nodded, and then he tightened his jaws when she giggled, “She said that there was nothing wrong with George because she knew that he was madly falling in love with your mother! I completely agreed with her. Don’t worry, Stiles.”

_He loves me..._

He forced to smile.

_Looks like I couldn’t tell her that I was raped by my mama’s fiancé. Help me._

“Stiles, do you want to come to Rome with me?”

He spaced out, responding, “I am sorry. I need to stay here to take care of my mama.”

“Oh, I completely understand.”

 

Arriving home, he opened the door and he closed it behind him. Before he shrugged off the jacket, he froze at the voice chuckling.

“Welcome home.”

His mouth went dry, heart pounded heavily, and blood inside his body screamed. He shut his eyes tightly, breathing in and out, before he started to walk into the kitchen where he found George sitting at the table and having a red wine. His stomach flipped at the sight of his heterochromatic eyes undressing him slowly, and he crossed his arms at his chest to defend himself from any surprise attack.

“What do you want, Mr. Hale?”

_RUN, STILES._

George sipped the red wine as he smiled over its rim before setting it down on the table. He spoke, gesturing to the empty chair, “Sit down. I would like to get know more about you. We would be family soon.”

Stiles shook his head, “I prefer standing.” He made an annoying grunt with a roll of his eyes, crossing his arms firmly such as if he tried to turn his body into a shiny armor to protect himself from the mad fiancé of his mother. He gulped, “Ask me anything.”

George grinned, “You look cute when you furrow your brows like that.”

Stiles muttered bitterly, glancing away from his eyes, “That’s not a question.”

George shrugged and he pulled his wallet out. He flipped his wallet open and displayed something. 

Stiles landed his gaze on the picture of his children standing on the porch.

George explained, “You will meet them.” He pointed at a woman with sleek black hair. She wore a white-buttoned shirt with short sleeves and a pair of almond high-waist trousers. 

“That’s Laura. She’s 25 years old and she works as a fashion designer for Dior.” He moved his finger from his eldest daughter to youngest daughter who had short tawny wavy hair. She apparently wore an uniform; she had a lovely poker face with brownish eyes.

“That’s Cora. She’s 13. She is homeschooled because she has a hard time to handle with her anger issue.” He gave a long sigh before speaking about a young boy with black hair. He also wore a uniform. Not to mention, he is tall and lanky.

“That’s Derek. He’s three years older than you and he is in his last year of high school. He’s just a brat who likes to party too much.”

He gave him a grin, “You will get along with them.”

Stiles straightened up and he crossed his arms firmly again, “Wait a minute. I didn’t say I will go with you to Beacon Hills.”

George frowned, standing up, “You must go.” He cornered him to the wall and he grabbed his hand tightly. 

Stiles hissed and jerked his hand out of his grip, “This is our one time deal.”

George smirked, “I will leave your mother.”

_No, no, no. Don’t make her to commit suicide again. My mama would be discharged this Saturday morning! Fuck!_

Stiles pressed his hand on George’s chest to push him away before George would do something sexual, “Don’t do that to my mother.”

“Beg me for your mother’s sake,” George offered his hand, “Let’s go to your bedroom if you want me to keep your mother happy.” 

Stiles’ blood rushed with screams, and his body became numb when he stared at his thick hand. He looked up at his heterochromatic eyes, and then he gulped. He accepted him by holding his hand and following him on the way to the bedroom. He felt like he’s walking with the Devil on the ground with thorns and fire. He closed his eyes, stifling his cry.

_I am betraying my mama and myself._

 

On Saturday morning, Stiles stood behind his mother closing the small suitcase and he bit the inside of his mouth, tasting the blood when he saw her fiancé coming and surprising her with a bouquet of red lotuses that incredibly punched him in the face. It was his favorite flower.

His mother gasped, hovering her hand above her mouth, and she held it with her free hand, “They’re beautiful. Where did you get them?”

George grinned, “I can get whatever you want, darling. Guess what?”

She frowned, “What is it?”

George said, “I am taking you to New York tonight.” 

She glanced at Stiles and she made an excited gasp before glancing at George and giggling, “I feel like I am dreaming.”

Stiles needed to puke somewhere when George stole a glance of him with a grin and wink. He felt like he wanted to strangle him because George should know that it was one time deal, not more than twice. It was disgusting.

The doctor finally discharged her, so they returned to the house and had a light lunch before his mother left the house for the vacation in New York with her fiancé. He told them to be safe there and have fun and he earned kisses on each cheek from them. He closed the door and he turned around before sliding down to the floor. He made a snarl at the sight of bouquet of red lotuses in the vase, and he stood up before sweeping it off the nightstand. The water spilled out of the vase, kissing the wooden floor. He dropped to his knees and he shredded the red lotuses into pieces. 

_I hate red lotuses now._

 

Since two week had passed, he couldn’t have any good sleep because of the horrible nightmare that George raped him repeatedly and threw the petals of red lotuses all over his naked body, laughing at him. He had to wake up in the middle of night and ran to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. He sobbed. He went back to sit on the bed, facing the window, and he stayed away until the sun screamed happily along with the bird chirping. He sighed and he went to take a shower. He doesn’t feel well, so he called his Aunt Angelina to come over at his house.

 

“I am starting to worry about you,” Angelina carried the breakfast bed tray and placed over his lap. She touched his forehead with the back of her hand, “It’s still warm.” He took a spoon to take a scoopful of potato soup.

She sat next to him, pouting, “Are you okay?”

“I am just sick, thanks for worrying about me,” he sipped it carefully, hoping that she would buy it. She squinted at him, but she made an aborted sigh. She took her shoes off and sat up at the headboard, “Your mother’s out of her mind! She called me that she got married yesterday.” She crossed her arms, shaking her head, and she glanced at him sincerely.

“Stiles. Do you like her husband?”

_Tell her. Just confess._

He stomped his confession and swept it back into the back of his head deeply, smiling, “He’s a good man. I hope he is going to treat my mama with love…unconditionally.”

“Oh, Stiles. I am surprised that she didn’t ask you to live with them.”

He shrugged, “She called me few days ago and asked me if I want to live with them. I told her no.” He almost cried happily and he could move on to forget about everything between him and his stepfather. He leaned on her shoulder, whispering, “Thanks for taking care of me, Aunt Angelina.” He earned a sweet kiss on the forehead from her.

“Eat more, Stiles. You’re getting skinny!”

He gave a snort of laughter. He assumed that he could move on, leaving the terrible flashbacks behind, and he could start a new life without a mother who had married with the heterochromatic eyed man and would move in with him as soon as possible. Frankly, he could breathe now.

_I am free._

 

On the last week of July, Stiles walked, holding the bicycle, and stopped by the cozy house in Pandova, Italy. He greeted a woman named Mrs. Flores on the porch who was a friend of his Aunt Angelina, and he kissed her on each side.

Mrs. Flores cupped her cheek with her hand, gasping in awe, “I can’t believe you are getting taller! Oh dear.” She explaining, cutely gesturing how small he was when she visited him in Venice five years ago.

Before instructing him to leave his bicycle outside, she let him come in and showed him where he could put his luggage in the guest room. She explained, “I would like to introduce you to someone. Another volunteer.” Stiles decided to volunteer because she needed some volunteers to take care of five elderly women who lived in her house.

“Come with me.”

He walked down on the stairs, following her, and he took quick glances of the framed pictures on the wall downstairs. He came in the kitchen and he widened his eyes, “Danny?” Danny looked up from feeding an elderly woman who talked with other three elderly women. He gasped, “Stiles?”

_What is a prostitute doing here?_

Mrs. Flores raised her brow, “You know each other?”

Stiles replied, “Yes, I know him from my school. What are you doing here?”

Danny smiled, shoving a spoon into the bowl of porridge, “She’s my godmother.”

Stiles said, “Oh, what a small world.” 

Mrs. Flores grabbed his hand, ushering him out of the kitchen gently, “You can chat later. Stiles, I want you to meet Ms. Maria.”

Stiles met Ms. Maria who liked to sing and pulled off the petals of daisy, though he thought she was peculiar when she told him that a vampire named Cain would make her young again when he would come to her room tonight. 

_Okay?_

 

The sun fell down behind the forest as the sky melted into a night filling with scintillating stars and a full moon. It was completely quiet except the sound of breeze. After putting other four elderly people to sleep, Stiles put Ms. Maria to sleep and he reminded her that Cain, the vampire, would come tonight if she behaved well. 

Ms. Maria nodded firmly and she closed her eyes, “Oh yes, Stiles.” 

He was about turning around on his heels, but he heard her whispering, “Am I beautiful?”

When he walked back to her, he smiled, caressing her temple gently, “Yes, you are. I think I should leave because Cain is jealous of me.”

She gasped with wide eyes, “Oh dear, you should go. Good night.”

He gave her a good night kiss on her forehead before he left her room, and he walked down on the stairs. He came in the kitchen as he put the apron on, “Do you need help?”

Danny washed the dishes with a yellow sponge and he pointed at the wet plates in the rack, “Yes, can you dry them?” 

“Sure,” Stiles stood next to him and he picked up the plate carefully, drying it with a white rag. He hummed, keeping himself busy without talking with him for precise ten minutes, until Danny whispered, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“I...I saw you kissing the man.”

Stiles stared at him, “What are you talking about?” Danny put the cup down in the sink and he dried his hands with his apron before speaking, “I volunteer helping the patients in the hospital where...your mother was hospitalized in. I happened to open the window for the patient who requested it, and then I...stumbled to see you kissing the man outside at night.”

_Oh, shit._

Stiles said, “I have no idea what are you talking about.” He glanced at him, furrowing his brows, and Danny frowned, “I am sorry to ask you. I thought it was you.”

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t me. Keep in the mind, I am not gay.” 

Danny winced, “I am sorry. Thanks for a clarification.” Stiles shrugged, “I would like to have some clarifications, too.” Danny picked up the cup, washing it, as he nodded, “What is it?”

“Why...,” Stiles glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mrs. Flores wasn’t here and he glanced to him, “Why do you sell yourself to men?” 

Danny kept washing the dishes such as if the question did not falter him, and he spoke calmly, “I need money.”

“For what?”

He replied, “At first, I needed money for paying a tuition. I know we are awfully wealthy, but my parents did not pay it for me because they always kept fighting over small problems. Somehow...I bought the drugs for the first time because I wanted to forget everything to keep myself happy. Mrs. Flores doesn’t know about it because I don’t want her to worry about me.”

He looked up at him, “Drugs are my friends, but I know they are bad.” He smiled, “Someday, I will defeat them.”

Stiles smiled, “You will.”

 

Since that day, they became friends. Stiles actually appreciated to learn why Danny had to sell himself, and he wished he could tell someone that he was raped by his mother’s fiancé. He had no confidence, therefore he kept a secret in the back of his head with a smile painting on his face. By the way, he had no nightmares since he came to Pandova, which was great for him.

 

In the end of third week of August, Danny dropped him off at the train station by driving a small car, which Stiles needed to return home, and Stiles thanked him for a ride. 

“I hope we can meet again, Stiles.”

“I hope so,” he stepped backward and he hollered with a grin, waving, “Take care of yourself!” He walked in the train station and bought a ticket before getting on the train on the way to another station in Venice. 

When he finally arrived home, he unlocked the door and he opened it. He dropped his backpack on the floor and put his bike on the wall. He closed the door behind him. It was nice to be home, but he kind of missed Ms. Maria and her weirdness.

 

Four days later, he went to visit Heather after he received a message from Aunt Angelina that his girlfriend came back home two days ago. He spotted Heather standing outside the door, and he knew something was not right when he noticed how tight she tightened her jaws and pressed her lips into a very thin line. She told him to follow her, so he walked behind her. He didn’t realize that her hair became glamorously light and her skin became tan beautifully. Obviously, she had a blast time with her family and friends in Rome.

They stopped in the middle of small bridge.

She turned around and she crossed her arms, whispering, “I have a great intuition like my mother has. Something is bothering me. Is that true that you’ve been cheating on me with a woman? Don’t lie to me.” 

He widened his eyes, opening his mouth, but he closed his mouth and glanced away. 

_She has rights to know._

He dug his hands into the pocket of his jeans, nodding without looking at her, “Yes. We went to the cottage and we had...you know.”

She bit her lips, tears gathering in her eyes, “How many times you did it with her?”

He tightened his jaws, “Twice.” 

He could see her crying and covering her face with her hands in the corner of his eye, and he heard her, “You prefer someone is more beautiful and older than me.” He groaned as he rubbed his hand all over his face, hissing softly, “No. It’s not what I mean.”

He looked at her desperately, and he sighed, “It...it...it wasn’t a woman. It was a man. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

She jolted her head up and she stared at him in disbelief, “A man? You cheated on me with a _man_?

He hugged himself, building the wall up slowly, as he breathed hardly, “Yes. I...I...I didn’t want to do it with him.”

She frowned with furrowing eyes, “You did it with him twice.” She widened her eyes, gasping, “Oh, don’t tell me it was Danny. I warned you to stay away from him.”

He whispered loudly instead of screaming, “NO!”

She cried out, “But my friend told me that she happened to see Danny dropping you off at the train station!

He grabbed her shoulder, “No, we stayed at Mrs. Flores’ house in Padova for taking care of elderly people. When we left Padova, He offered me a ride to the train station.” He groaned, running his free hand through his hair, “You really misunderstood. Let me explain.” 

Unfortunately, she whimpered, “You are not the same Stiles I know!” She refused to listen to him and she pushed him away, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Don’t touch me. You’ve changed!” 

She ran away.

_Heather! I am trying to tell you that...I was raped by my mama’s husband._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danny is two years older than Stiles, by the way.


	6. Chapter 6

****

**Venice, Italy—May 8, 1958-August 31, 1958**

On August 24th, Stiles walked across the bridge on the way to the antique store, feeling a twinge of depressed pang all over his chest, as he hummed a lullaby. It was hurt to keep a forbidden secret, but it was safely hidden deep in his heart with a tiny darkness. Additionally, he happened to hear new rumors about him and Danny sleeping together, and sometimes he happened to see some of his friends who murmured and gave him dirty looks. Lately, he locked himself in his bedroom when he didn’t work, avoiding any humiliations. He really missed his mother, the scent of her perfume called Ode from Guerlain, her laughter, and everything such as if she was a goddess.

_Of course, it was Heather who spread rumors, therefore she ruined his life. Thanks a lot, Heather._

He needed to destroy that secret. SOMEHOW.

He stopped by the door of the antique store and he was about unlocking it, but he heard a motherly voice.

“Stiles!”

He dropped a key, flailing his arms, and he screamed when he turned around on his heels. He widened his eyes, landing his gaze on the woman with black curly hair laughing.

_Who’s that?_

_Mama?_

He stammered, “What happened to your hair?”

His mother flipped her hair behind her shoulder, grinning, as she showed off her new outfit—a lovely royal blue bodice dress with the V-neckline and short sleeves, a royal blue Lily Dache hat, and a pair of blue royal high shoes. Too much blue, but they were extraneously gorgeous!

She spread her red lips into a grin, “Do you like my hair?”

As picking up the key, he stared at her in utterly disbelief, “It’s black!”

She shrugged, tilting one corner of her lips in a quirky smile , “George likes it.”

He gulped at the mention of _that name_ , and he nodded, opening the door, “Mama, you look stunningly beautiful.” He earned a kiss and hug from her. Her perfume smelled different. It smelled something different like...Chanel; it didn't suit her. 

They came in together.

She removed her hat, looking around, “You take care of it well.”

He nodded and he shrugged off the jacket, “Yes, I sold more than twenty items. Why are you coming back here?” He hung it on the wooden coat tree, looking over his shoulder, and he froze when his mother bit her lips.

She looked so uncertain.

_Oh, are you going to dump him soon? I would be delighted if you did that!_

He turned around to face her, “Does he hurt you?” She jolted her head up with wide eyes and she shook her head, cupping her cheek with her hand, “Oh no. He’s very gentleman. I...I...” She placed a hat on the wooden coat tree.

He gasped, showing his concern, “What’s wrong?”

She sighed, walking closer to her, and she wrapped her hands over his shoulder. 

“I am feeling lonely.”

“You have George and his three children.”

She smiled, moving her hand from his shoulder to caress his cheek, “Laura and Derek are nice to me. Cora looks adorable, but I am not fond of her attitude.” Her eyes became dark and gloomy when she spoke, “I need you to live with me.”

His throat became tight. He whispered, “Why?”

She wrapped her hands around him, “You’re my son! I need you to live with me and our new family!” She started to cry, “Please. I couldn’t live without you! Every night, I cry.”

He wrapped his arms around her and he whispered, “What about school?”

“You will go to the school as the same as Derek attends. It’s in Los Angeles.”

He pulled away from her, “What about this store?” She looked around, sighing with smile, “I will close it down. The rest of items would be packed and sent to Aunt Angelina’s storage.” She gave a small gasp, hugging him again, “Will you come with me?”

“Yes.”

_It will be okay. It will be okay. George won’t touch me again. It will be okay._

 

A day before last day of August, they went to have a lunch with Aunt Angelina and her family before they would leave the Venice by boarding the airplane on the long way to Los Angeles that located in Southern California.

Aunt Angelina swallowed the piece of pasta with tomato sauce, “Are you sure you want to live in Beacon Hills?” She squinted at her, whispering to him, “Did she threaten you?”

His mother gasped loudly, “Angelina! That’s rude of you!” Her sister rolled her eyes at her, huffing lightly, and she whispered into his ear, “If you don’t like there, then we are always happy to welcome you back.”

Her 13 years old triplet daughters—Karla, Maelee, and Jasmin—nodded synchronically with hums of approval, and her husband nodded in agreement.

He nodded, hiding a smile from his mother who glared at them, and he thanked her for her generosity. 

He would miss them.

Not long after the dinner with Aunt Angelina and her family, they rode on the train on the way to the airport. He glanced through the window, viewing the sea, and he glanced over his shoulder when his mother murmured angrily, “We won’t come back for Christmas. I hate her.” Well, she hated her sister since her sister insulted her that she was an unfit mother. He couldn’t do anything to fix their relationship since they were both stubborn.

 

 

On August 31th, the airplane landed on the pavement smoothly and stopped by the boarding tunnel. He yawned, stretching his whole body, when his mother shook him gently and told him to wake up, “We are here.” He blinked and leaned closer to the window, noticing how dark night was. He sighed, whispering, “It will be okay...”

He followed his mother through the boarding tunnel and walked on the way to the baggage claim, curiously looking around. They took their time when they tried to find their four suitcases—one for his mother and three for him, and then they found their driver who displayed the sign that said “Mrs. Hale”. They let him to load their suitcases in the trunk of limo while they got in the rear seat.

The driver began driving.

Stiles watched through the window, glancing at various stores and houses, and he frowned, “Here is different than my hometown.” He heard his mother mentioning casually, “I know. Nothing looks like Venice.”

As they were on the way to the house in Beacon Hills, his body started to sense an urge of itch. He started to sweat, breathing hardly, and he closed his eyes.

_Oh god, I made a mistake._

His mother chirped, “Finally, we are here.” She pointed at the bricked mansion as the driver parked onto the driveway. She opened the door, patting his shoulder, and she grinned, “Welcome to the Hale house.”

He came out of the car and followed his mother to the door that was opened by the butler. She whispered, “Thanks, Alfred.”

He almost dropped his jaw at at the sight of expensive furniture, painting, and others, and his mother informed him that she needed to call her husband. She left him alone in the lobby when she walked to somewhere. He wandered passing the entrance of living room, but he stopped at the glimpse of a young man who stood next to the window with heavy white curtain. 

Somehow, he got a flashback of George’s heterochromatic eyes as he froze.

The young man smiled at him with piercing heterochromatic eyes, and then he spoke that startled him slightly, “You must be Stiles.”

Stiles licked his lips and he gave him a short nod, “Yes, I am. 

The young man walked closer to him and he landed his hand on his shoulder, “I am Derek Hale. I am your older stepbrother. My father told me to give you a short tour of this mansion.”

_Oh god, don’t touch me._

Stiles bit his lips, following him when the tour begun. Through the tour, he asked, “It must be hard to clean the whole house.”

Derek snorted, “That’s why we are paying the maids to clean everything. Any question?”

Stiles looked to the right and the left, “Where do I sleep?”

Derek made an apology and guided him, explaining that his bedroom located in the west wing, until he opened the door, “That’s your bedroom.” Stiles gawped, “Is it mine?”

Derek nodded firmly and he added, pointing at the door, “The bathroom’s over there.” He walked out of the bedroom, but he turned around and he gave him a genuine smile, “Are you hungry? I know it’s late because everyone goes to sleep at 9:00 soon, though...”

Stiles shook his head, “No, I am not. I would like to sleep.”

Derek acknowledged his reason and he closed the door behind him before saying, "Good night."

Stiles sat down on the bed and he sighed with murmurs, “It will be okay. It will be okay.” He opened one of his three suitcases, and took his pajamas, brief, and blue striped towel before taking a short shower. After the short shower, he lied down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, but he heard a knock on the door.

“Mama?”

The door was opened by the black figure.

The black figure closed the door.

“Is that you, Mama?”

He froze when the black figure came under the moonlight and he couldn’t scream when the black figure sat down next to him, chuckling, “It’s nice to see you again, Stiles.”

_George!_

His body trembled when George touched his shoulder. 

“Stiles, what do you think of this old mansion?”

He breathed nervously, “It looks beautiful.”

“It is. My great-great grandfather built this mansion,” George started to move his hand down to his back and he leaned closer to his neck, “Oh god, I’ve been longing for holding you again.” He pressed his lips on his neck.

Stiles stifled his sob, grasping a handful of the blanket, and he whimpered, “No, no. I will tell my mother on you.”

George looked into his eyes and he flashed a sly grin, “I am ready to break her heart anytime. Do you want that?”

Stiles felt numb as he dazed out, being pushed down on the bed. He covered his mouth with his hands to stifle his sob when George spread his legs and he fingered inside him 

_I am painfully numb._

He bit his lips, tasting his blood, as he grunted softly when George pounded him brutally. He didn’t remember how long it lasted, but he remembered the sound of George whispering ‘sleep well’ and closing the door shut. Being naked, he lied down and he stared at the ceiling. 

He started to weep as he sat up at the headboard.

_I thought it was over._


	7. Chapter 7

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 1, 1958**

Stiles tucked the hem of white buttoned shirt beneath his black trouser, and then he slipped his feet into the pair of black shoes. He walked to the door, and he stared at the knob, realizing that he could lock it last night. He opened the door slowly while he heard voices coming from the dining room.

He walked down on the stairs and he greeted the maid who came out of the living room.

The maid smiled, “Hi Stiles. I am Stephanie. You must be hungry?” 

He nodded, so he followed her to the dining room with a nice view of the garden and woods. He spotted his mother chatting with _that man_ , and he landed his gaze on the brunette haired girl who scowled at the sunny side up egg.

His mother asked him how’s his sleep and he told her that it was good, but she had no idea what her husband had done to him in his own bedroom last night.

The girl looked up and she asked, pushing her plate forward a bit, “Do you want it?”

His mother replied, “No, you need to eat that.”

The girl screamed, “I DID NOT ASK YOU!” 

_Oh my god, Mama is right._

He quickly answered it before his mother was about scolding, “You must be Cora?”

Core nodded, “Yes, I am.” She repeated the question, poking the sunny side up egg with the fork twice.

He replied friendly as he sat down next to her, “I don’t like sunny side up egg.” She empathized him and she scowled at Stephanie, “Make scrambled eggs for us, please!”

As picking her plate up, Stephanie asked Derek when he came in, “Derek, would you like to eat breakfast?” Derek shrugged into his blazer, grinning, “No thanks.”

Stiles had a hard time to avert his gaze from his heterochromatic eyes as Derek asked his father, “Dad, can I have your car? I need to drive to school.”

George frowned, “My car? I don’t think so.” 

Derek sighed dramatically, “Please.”

George shook his head stubbornly, so Derek left the dining room and made a shout, “Fine, I will use taxi!” 

Claudia whispered, “Why can’t he have your car? You have five cars.” 

George wiped his mouth with a napkin and he tossed it next to his plate, standing up from his seat, “Last year, he wrecked my favorite car. It was BMW 507 Roadster.”

Cora laughed, and all of sudden she closed her mouth shut when George pounded his fist on the dining table, angry. She quickly scrambled out of her seat and she screamed, running from the dining room, “I am sorry! Thanks for breakfast!”

Claudia shook her head, “Oh dear. She should be a proper lady.”

George nodded in agreement and he looked at his wristwatch, informing them that he had a meeting in Los Angeles at noon. He leaned down to kiss her on lips briefly and he walked past Stiles, quickly caressing his nape that made his body tremble a bit. 

She chirped happily, “Drive safe!”

Stephanie came in and she frowned, “Where is Cora?” Claudia explained that Cora went to her bedroom since she didn’t behave well, and Stephanie nodded, “All right, I will bring it to her. Stiles, here is your breakfast. Claudia, the driver is waiting for you.”

Claudia thanked her and she stood up from her seat, speaking clearly, “I have a doctor appointment.”

Stiles frowned as Stephanie placed the plate in front of him, “For what?”

Claudia replied, “It’s something personal.” She walked and stopped by Stiles, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead and expecting him to behave well before leaving the house.

Stiles was alone with his breakfast meal and he went ahead to finish it.

 

He went to his bedroom and he locked it firmly. He ran to the closet and he grabbed his suitcase to put it on his bed. He whispered, “I am going back to Venice.” He couldn’t stand it living with his disgusting stepfather under the same roof.

He searched for his passport. 

He gasped, “It’s gone.”

He suspected that George might steal it and hid it in somewhere, and he cursed under his breath, “Cazzo.” He buried his face onto his palms, feeling an urge to itch so bad, and then he screamed silently.

 

He ran down on the stairs when his mother finally arrived at 1:30 pm, and he cried out, “Mama, where is my passport?”

She removed her hat and handed it over to Stephanie, smiling blithely, “Don’t worry about it. Oh, I gave it to George for safekeeping.” 

He inhaled and he plastered a smile on his face, “How thoughtful you are.” His mother pinched his cheek gently, and then she ushered him to the living room, explaining, “Today, Derek chose to go to school early, but the school would start tomorrow. It’s a boarding school. You could start attending this week, but you need uniform first. I called for the tailor to make a custom uniform for you. He will come this Thursday.”

He said, “Boarding school?”

She nodded, “You can stay there from Monday to Friday. Some students could stay there from Sunday to Saturday because they live far away from their houses.”

_I can stay there every week instead of living here._

“Stiles, you could start next week.”

He quickly replied, “No. I want to start tomorrow.” 

She frowned, placing her hands on her hips, “But you just arrived here yesterday. You must be exhausted.”

He begged, “Please.”

She shook her head, “No Stiles, you need uniform first.”

They turned around when they heard Stephanie making a comment, “He can borrow Derek’s old uniform temporarily.”

_I can go to school tomorrow._

She sighed, “I want you to wear a brand new uniform.”

He snorted, “Wearing his old uniform is not problem for me. Mama, let me go to school tomorrow.”

“Let me think about it.”

 

****

______________________________

Derek crossed his arms under his head, sitting up at the headboard, and he watched Bethany, one of his friends with benefit. He laughed, “What are you doing?”

She glared, “I am painting my toes. Can’t you see?”

He shrugged, “One more round?”

“No.” She finished painting her toes and she got off the bed, grabbing her clothes and undergarment before entering the bathroom. When she came out of the bathroom and she already dressed up, she blow him a kiss and she left.

Derek left the hotel and he returned to the house, but he decided to walk through the woods. He spotted Stiles lying on his stomach next to the lake. He checked on him, “You shouldn’t be near the lake if you take a nap. You could drown.”

Stiles sat up and he cried.

_Oh shit, what do I do?_

Derek crouched down next to him, “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

Stiles refused to look up and he sighed, weeping the tears off with the back of his hand, “I am just homesick.”

“Oh, do you have a girlfriend?”

“I had.”

_Oh shit, I am not good at comforting people._

Derek sat down, and he scratched the back of his head, “Um...this town is pretty small, but beautiful. I am sure you will find another girl.”

Stiles whispered, “Leave me alone.”

_I am not good at giving an advice._

Derek frowned, holding his hands on the grass behind him, “You’re upset with your mother’s remarriage, aren’t you? I bet you opposed to it in the first place, but you ended up being here because you were forced to come here. Maybe, you hate your hometown or try to forget about the break up? Am I right?”

Stiles was silent.

_Did I hit the bull’s eye?_

Derek sighed, “I am sorry that you didn’t acknowledge my father as your stepfather. It took me some time to accept your mother as my stepmother. And...breakup is a part of life. Cheer up.”

Stiles stood up and he gave him a glare.

_What’s wrong with him?_

Derek emphasized the statement, “If you hate here, then you should go back to Venice. You will deal with some problems there, I guarantee.”

Stiles screamed, “You don’t know anything!” He took a sharp maneuver.

_Jeez, what a strange boy with a short temper._

 

After staying near the lake for one and half hours, Derek returned to the house and entered the kitchen. He said, “Hi Stephanie.”

Stephanie frowned, “I thought you go back to school today.”

He shrugged, “I changed my mind.”

She nodded and she asked him, “Can you inform Stiles that dinner will be ready in ten minutes? He didn’t eat his lunch. He must be starved.”

He sighed, “I will do it.” He walked up on the stairs, to the bedroom in the West Wing, and he stopped by the door. He tapped his knuckles on it, saying loudly, “The dinner will be ready in ten minutes!”

He waited for any response, so he knocked it again.

Stiles opened the door ajar and he frowned, “What do you want?”

Derek made a look, “You need to eat something.”

Stiles muttered, “Thanks, but I am not really hungry.”

_You starve yourself to death?_

Stiles closed it, but Derek placed his foot between the door, gripping its edge with his hand. Derek was about opening his mouth, though Stiles screamed at him, “DON’T COME IN!” 

That startled him.

Stiles gasped, “Oh…I didn’t mean to yell at you. I don’t want you to see my room. It is messy.”

Derek whispered, “Okay.” He stepped back and he turned around, but he paused when he heard him asking, “Do you go to school tomorrow?” He turned around on his heel slightly and he nodded, sticking his hands into the pocket of his trousers, “Yes. Tomorrow, I will leave in early morning.” He furrowed his brows curiously, “Why?”

Stiles shrugged one of his shoulder, almost opening the door, “I was wondering if I can borrow your uniform temporarily. I don’t have one.”

Derek nodded, “Sure. Come with me for dinner.” He could see Stiles being so hesitated.

_Maybe, he is naturally shy._

Stiles made a big sigh, “Okay.”

Derek flashed a grin, “Great.”

They showed up at the dining table and found their seats. 

His stepmother curiously asked, “Where have you been, Stiles?” She settled her wine next to her plate, making a sweet smile at her son. Her son made a quiet comment that he was at the lake all day, so she acknowledged it by humming and she added, “Is it beautiful?”

Stiles stared at his plate, nodding, as he dug the fork into the mashed potato.

Derek looked at his sister, Cora, who sat next to him, whispering, “Did you know that there are ghosts there?” He kicked her in the leg under the table and she stifled her scream, giving him a secretive glare.

Stiles looked at them, confused, and he added, “Mama. Derek told me that I could borrow his uniform.”

Derek added, “I don’t mind.”

His stepmother frowned, shaking her head, “You can’t go there yet because it is still in the progress.”

His father interrupted her, “No darling, he can go tomorrow. It’s easy to transfer him because of his connection with his step-siblings.” She gasped, “Oh thank you so much, but he doesn’t have his own uniforms and materials what he needs!”

Derek reminded her friendly, “He can borrow my old uniform, but it might be slightly large.” 

She shook her head, “No, he should have his own uniform.”

_There is nothing shame to use a hand me down uniform._

Stiles said, “Mama. I don’t mind using his uniform. Please.”

She sighed, “But I don’t want everyone to laugh at you.”

Cora giggled with a mischievous expression. 

His stepmother’s eyes gathered with tears, “That’s what I am afraid of.”

_Damn, she must love her son so much. I miss my mother._

His father comforted her, “Darling, he will be fine. He will come back home on Friday evening when the school finishes. On every Sunday night or Monday morning, he needs to go back to school. That’s not difficult.” He grinned at Stiles, “You will love that school.”

Derek glanced at Stiles, but he noticed Stiles staring at his plate blankly. 

_You are definitely homesick._

He spoke up, “Claudia. He should go to school tomorrow. I will look after him for you.”

She sighed, “You’re right. Stiles, I am sorry for being so overprotective of you.” 

Stiles stood up and he said, “I know you are. Mama, I am not really hungry.” His mother stood up and walked around the table to hug him and kiss him before telling him to have some rest.

 

At 11:00, Derek sneaked into the kitchen and stole one of his stepfather’s beers before walking up on the stairs. He stopped when he glanced at his stepbrother’s door and he thought of checking on him to make sure he was okay, but he decided not to do it. 

He shook his head, “What a weird stepbrother I have.” 

He walked to his bedroom in East Wing and closed the door behind him.

 

****

______________________________

Stiles buried himself in the blanket as he sat up, staring at the longcase clock that displayed as ’11:04’ and glaring at his stepfather standing under the moonlight in the corner of his eye. He couldn’t believe that his stepfather had keys, which meant that he could open any doors! He didn’t feel safe in his own bedroom.

He hissed, “Give my passport back.” His stepfather walked toward him and he sat on edge of the bed, “I kept it in the bank.”

He closed his eyes, freezing, when his stepfather wrapped his hand around his neck gently, and he crunched his face up when his stepfather pressed his lips against his neck. He grew numb, being pushed down on his back, as his stepfather pulled the blanket off. 

His stepfather leaned down to kiss his collarbone, slowly removing his pajama, and he teased how pale his body was. He poured the bottle of lubrication on his fingers before he put his two fingers inside Stiles.

“You’re tight.”

_Help me._

Stiles grunted, covering his mouth to prevent any scream or moan. The tears gathered in his eyes and rolled down on his cheeks. He breathed heavily, shutting his eyes tightly, as his stepfather moaned into his ear, rolling him on his stomach and guiding himself into him, “You’re mine.”

He bit the mouthful of pillow as he grasped the handful of other pillow with his hands when his stepfather thrust him in a fast rhyme, sliding his hands down to his hips to grasp them for a better leverage.

He heard an echo of the whisper from his stepfather, “When you come back home, you're my weekend lover.” He earned a kiss on the top of his head that sent the shiver down his spine.

_I shouldn’t make a deal with Satan in the first place._


	8. Chapter 8

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 2, 1958**

In the hall, Stiles walked between his mother and stepfather as he did not pay attention to any male students. When his blood rushed everywhere, his body became heavy like he was carrying 100 kg stone on his back and begged to be itched desperately. All he heard were muffled voices in the background; he dazed out.

_Help me._

He jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Whoa, it’s me Derek,” Derek lifted his hands in air, showing a grin. He chuckled as he stepped back, “Stiles, you will be fine. See you around.”

Stiles had no effort to wave at him back and he blankly stared at him when Derek turned his back to them. He looked over his shoulder when his stepfather who called his name standing at the door, “Dr. Argent would like to see you, Stiles.”

He slowly came in and he landed his gaze on Dr. Argent, the bald man in the black suit. 

Dr. Argent broke his poker face when he cracked his smile, lifting his hand for a handshake, “You must be Stiles Hale. I am Gerard Argent, the headmaster of St. Augustine High School.”

Stiles hated his new last name. Of course, he was upset that he learned by finding his new last name on the forms that his mother changed his last name without his permission.

He made a handshake with his shortly before he sat next to his mother who spoke, “My son just arrived in Beacon Hills two days ago, and I insisted that he could start school next week, but...” She caressed the back of his neck and she giggled, “He loves studying any subject to keep himself busy because he has ADHD.”

Dr. Argent acknowledged his passion of having a formal education and his ADHD. He asked, “Stiles, how many language you speak?”

Stiles answered, “English, Italian, French, and Polish.” His mother added, “Don’t forget you are studying Chinese.”

Dr. Argent raised his brows, “I am so impressed.” He looked at Stiles’ educational files, “In Venice, you finished your first year of high school. Isn’t it right?”

Stiles corrected him, “No, it’s my second year, actually. In other word, I am in 11th grade.” 

“Okay. What do you want to become? We have several good programs for careers students might want to study early.”

Stiles tapped his foot against the floor, and he said, “Um...do I have to decide my major today?”

Dr. Argent chuckled, “It’s okay. When you decide a major, then let me know, okay?”

Stiles nodded.

After the meeting with Dr. Argent, Stiles kissed his mother on each cheeks and he faced his stepfather. He stepped backward, saying, “Bye George.” 

The grin crept up on his stepfather’s face, “See you on Friday night.” 

 

In the hall in the dormitory called Beta for only juniors, he searched for his room 313 on the third floor and he asked a young staff named Nick. Nick explained, pointing at the hall in a correct direction, “It’s in the East Wing. You’re in the wrong hall.” 

He walked back to the right hall and he stopped at the door with three digits ‘313’. He opened the door slowly and he faced two older boys.

“Um, hello. I am Stiles.”

The boy with a pair of dark brown eyes and an uneven jaw grinned, “So you must be a transfer student? I noticed your accent.”

Stiles nodded, “Yes, I am from Venice, Italy. I moved to Beacon Hills two days ago.”

The boys gasped.

The boy with uneven jaw grinned, “We are from Beacon Hills, too! Cool. I am Scott McCall. This is Greenberg.”

Greenberg with blond hair and blue eyes saluted, “Nice to meet you, Stiles. How are old you?”

Stiles replied, “15 years old.”

Greenberg whistled, “You must be genius. We are 17.” He pointed at the bed next to the window, “It’s for you. I hate to sleep near the window. I am scared of Mr. Finstock. He could strangle me in my sleep.”

Walking to his bed, Stiles put his suitcase on the bed, “Who is Mr. Finstock.”

Scott laughed, shrugging into his blazer and he explained, “He’s an economic teacher. He’s asshole.” He looked at the clock above the door, “My class will start in ten minutes. Stiles, you better put your blazer on.”

Stiles was about reaching his blazer with a red arm band with a strange symbol ‘A’, but Greenberg grabbed it, “It’s big for you.” Greenberg observed it until he screamed, “OH SHIT!” 

Stiles flinched at his scream as Scott jumped up with a gasp. 

Scott shoved Greenberg, “What is wrong with you?”

Greenberg pointed at the blazer and he stammered nervously, “It’s Derek Hale.”

Scott widened his eyes and he glanced at Stiles, “Do you know Derek Hale?”

_Why you looked shocked?_

Stiles said, “Yes. My mother married his father,...we are stepbrothers.”

Scott raised his brow, “What’s he like at home?”

Stiles took his blazer back and he shrugged into it, “He’s pretty normal and nice. Why?”

Scott licked his lips and he flickered his gaze from Greenberg to him, “You don’t know about him that much?”

Stiles stated, “I met him for the first time two days ago. Yeah. What’s a problem about him at this school?” Scott jerked his head toward the exit of door, “We don’t want to be late for our classes. What’s your first class?”

Stiles said, “AP English in room 34B.”

Scott nodded, “I will guide you to there. Let’s go.”

 

Walking in the hall of school, Stiles glanced at every students curiously and he heard his roommate, Scott, explaining, “He’s really popular and he always parties all the time. Every girl worships him like he’s...” Greenberg coughed quietly, “A sex god.”

Scott hummed in agreement, “Totally. Even boys want him, but unfortunately, he is straight. No one is interested in having a sex with me! I am seventeen years old virgin.” 

Greenberg made a soft snicker, “So am I!”

_Great, everyone is talking about sex._

Greenberg pointed at the door, “That would be your first period.”

Stiles thanked them for guiding him to find a class, and he agreed to meet them in the cafeteria.

 

After third period, he went to the cafeteria and he spotted his roommates sitting at the table next to the window. He walked toward them and he accidentally bumped into a blond student who carried the tray. Everyone stared at them when the huge tall student looked at the mess on his uniform and stared at him, “YOU!”

He backed away from him until Scott saved his life when he ran behind the blond student and he whispered into his ear. The student went pale and he flashed a grin, landing his gaze on the red arm band, “Don’t worry about the mess.” He walked away from them, so Scott ushered Stiles to the table.

As sitting down, Stiles asked him what’s going on and Scott grinned, “I told him that you’re wearing Derek Hale’s blazer.”

“What’s so important about his blazer?”

Scott and Greenberg exchanged their looks and they laughed together. 

Stiles squinted, “Okay…it was just a blazer.”

Scott laughed, “No, it’s not.”

 

****

______________________________ 

In the library, Derek spent his time to finish his eight page essay, and he made a scowl when his friend, Isaac, came to sit across him and he whispered, “Hey.”

“What do you want?”

Isaac spread a grin, “The rumor is true. You gave your blazer to a boy. I didn’t know you are gay.”

“What?”

Isaac described what the boy looked like, “According to several students, the boy is short, maybe 5 feet and 3 inches, and he has a cute Italian accent. He has brown hair, long eyelashes, and a pair of whiskey eyes! Not to mention, he has a cupid bow’s lips and moles all over his face like constellations in the night sky. Man, I would like to see him.” He made a soft whistle as he raised his brows, “Everyone is afraid of him because you might kill any one of them if they lay their fingers on him. Why him? Does he look like a girl?”

Derek dropped a pencil on the lined papers, and he groaned, “You are idiot to believe that silly rumor.”

Isaac straightened up, making a frown, “Hey!” He winced at the librarian shushing at him loudly, and he leaned closer to him. He whispered, “Hey!” 

Derek gathered his papers to put them in the file, and he closed several books. He released a chuckle out of his mouth, “I think you are talking about my stepbrother.” He stood up, holding his supplies with his hands, as he walked to the exit. 

Isaac followed him, “What!? Since when?”

Derek replied, “My father married his mother 2 months ago.” He added, “The reason why I lent him my blazer was because he didn’t have his own uniform yet.” 

They walked onto the sidewalk on way to the dorm, but he spotted his stepbrother sitting alone under the tree. He handed his supplies over to his friend, “That’s my stepbrother, Stiles. Can you hold them for me.” He ran to greet his stepbrother.

_Whoa._

Stiles jolted his head up and he glared at him, “I don’t need you to look after me. I am not a baby, therefore I can take care of myself. What do you want?”

Derek crouched down closer to him and he whispered, “I know something is bothering you. What is it?” 

With a roll of his eyes, Stiles pointed at the blazer, “The blazer. Everyone freaks out when they see this.”

Derek scratched his chin, chuckling nervously, “Well, you see...everyone thinks you are my little lover...because I usually lend my blazer to some girl from Academy of Our Lady of Peace I like.” The Academy of Our Lady of Peace was eight blocks away from this school.

He pointed at the red arm band, “No one has this. Everyone recognizes this because I am known as Alpha of St. Augustine High School.”

He added, “By the way, they are shocked that I am gay because you’re not a girl.”

All of sudden, Stiles took his jacket off and threw it at him, shouting, “Keep it!” He stood up and fled like a swift angel.

Derek grasped his blazer, standing up, and he made an exaggerated sigh. He turned around on his heels and he walked toward his friend.

 

At the night, Derek decided to visit his stepbrother at the Beta, and he knocked the door. 

He stepped back when a boy with uneven jaw opened it and he widened his eyes, “Der...Derek Hale. Stiles, your stepbrother is here.” 

Stiles came up behind him and closed the door behind him. He crossed his arms firmly and he sighed, frustrated, “I told you I—”

Derek shoved his blazer to his chest, “Keep this until your uniform arrives. Any staff might not accept if you don’t wear a blazer tomorrow.”

Stiles hissed, “I am not your little lover!” 

Derek leaned down and he made a clarification, “Forget about that. I lend this to you as a stepbrother. I promised your mother that I am going to look after you.” He pressed it against his chest firmly, “Please, use it.” 

Stiles sighed and held it in his hand, nodding without looking at him, “Thanks. Good night.” 

He came in the room and shut the door in his face.

Derek chuckled softly, “Definitely weird.”

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 5, 1958**

On the early morning of Friday, Stiles brushed his short hair with a brush, then he looked over his shoulder when Greenberg told him that someone was calling him right now. Stiles wondered who called him this early.

Stiles sat down on the bed and picked the telephone up, speaking, “This is Stiles.”

“How are you doing?”

He smiled, “Mama, I am doing great. I like this school.”

“That’s wonderful to hear that. I would like to let you know that I got a call from someone in Venice.”

He froze. He whispered, glancing through the window, “Who was it?”

“Your former girlfriend.”

_Heather!_

He started to form tears in his eyes and he exhaled sharply, “Mama, what did she say?”

“She would like to talk with you. I think she’s missing you a lot.”

He wiped tears off with the back of his hand and he licked the taste of tears, “Thanks for letting me know. Can you tell her that she could send letters to me. I should write a letter, too.”

“Sure, I would tell her. Writing letters is so fun.” 

He heard her humming beautifully, “Stiles, you will come this weekend?”

_Weekend? I cannot be his weekend lover._

He trembled his lips and he made a sharp inhale, “Mama, I need to go to my class. Talk to you later. I love you.” He quickly hung it up.

“Dude, are you okay?”

He made awkward chuckle without looking over his shoulder, “I am okay, Scott. Leave me alone.”

“Okay, dude. See you later.”

He was alone in the room.

_Help me._

 

After the school, he locked himself in the room and stared at the blank lined paper for over ten minutes while his roommates went back home by riding the train. He made a frustrated groan as he dropped a pencil. He placed his head on the desk, elbowing, as he hummed a lullaby.

“You’re good at singing.”

He was startled, assuming that it was his stepfather speaking, and then he turned around. He frowned.

_Derek._

Derek stood at the doorframe, placing his hand on his left hip, as he held his suitcase with his hand. He widened his eyes, confused, “You’re crying.”

Stiles quickly wiped the tears off with his hands and he muttered, “What do you want?”

Derek simply answered, “We are going home.”

Stiles whispered, “Home?”

Before leaving, Derek confirmed by nodding, “Be ready in ten minutes. See you outside.” 

_Help me._

 

Stiles carried his suitcase and he spotted Derek talking to someone, walking closer to him, but he almost choked at the sight of his stepfather.

Derek caught him by a glimpse on the corner of his eye and he waved at him, spreading a smile, “Dad, he’s here.”

Stiles flickered his gaze between them, not trying to shake his body, as he opened his mouth, but his stepfather interrupted him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder, “I am taking you to Santa Monica and other beautiful places. Your mother think we should have a vacation because we need to strength our bond.”

_Help me, Derek._

Stiles sighed nodding when Derek patted his shoulder, “Have fun. See you on Monday.” Derek told them to be safe on the vacation and he got into the backseat before the driver drove onto the street from the driveway.

Stiles kept his head down, beginning to follow his stepfather to his car, and he loaded his suitcase in the trunk before closing it. He couldn’t feel his body anymore when he got into the passenger’s seat.

His stepfather touched his kneecap, and he smiled, “We will have a fun time.”

_Help me._

 

Of course, his stepfather took him to a luxury hotel with a beautiful view of beach in Santa Monica. Stiles considered it as a vacation for his stepfather’s lust pleasure; he wished he could say no. Somehow, something weakened or prevented him from saying NO. 

He wished he could know.

After taking his clothes, he walked to the bed and was on his hands and knees which was an order from his stepfather. He curled his lips inside from crying as he shuddered at the thick hands groping his butt cheeks.

“How beautiful you are.”

He tried to ignore the lustful comments from his stepfather by distracting himself to keep his eyes on the moon. He bit his lips when the lubricated fingers entered him, and then he released a cry at the top of his lungs when his stepfather lined his cock to his hole. He wrapped his hands around the bars of its headboard, stifling his cry, but he unwillingly moaned when his stepfather pounded against his prostration continuously. 

He sobbed, “Stop. Stop.” He started to shove him off and he scrambled out of his bed, but his stepfather wrapped his arms around him and brought him back to the bed by tossing. He crawled to sit up at the headboard and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and trembling violently.

His stepfather gave him a glare and he walked to his suitcase on the trunk that stood by the end of bed. He opened it and he lifted his grotesque black wolf masquerade mask baring its fangs. He put it on and he tied the ends of its strings into a knot before looking at Stiles. He explained that he bought it from the private auction in Japan years ago.

“You should obey me because I am your alpha.”

He whimpered while his stepfather picked up the handcuffs. He got off the bed as he ran to the balcony, thinking of screaming that would get someone’s attention, but his stepfather picked him up in a bridal way to the bed and put him on his stomach before handcuffing his hands to the headboard.

He squirmed as he kicked his legs to shove him off. He made a convulsive gasp and he shed tears when his stepfather surprised him by lashing his back with the black leather whip four times before shoving his cock to his hole again.

He flinched at the hand placing on the top of his spine, and he sharply exhaled.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, but this is your punishment for shoving me that make me mad,” his stepfather whispered solemnly, and then he chuckled, “Your back look exquisite with angry lashes.”

_Help me._

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 7, 1958**

Stiles gaped in utter shock when he saw a reflection of his body—his back marked with angry lashes, the sides of his hips painted with bruises, and his chest showed some hickeys—in the long mirror in the bathroom. He covered his mouth with his hands, biting, as he closed his eyes shut. He couldn’t believe how his body could be damaged easily.

He made a soft gasp and looked over his shoulder when the door opened. His stepfather who already dressed up in a casual suit leaned on the doorframe and roamed his gaze over him before wrapping his hand around his bruised wrist to get him on the bed.

He sat on the bed, crossing his legs, as he let his stepfather applying the ointment over the countless lashes on his back and covered them with the clothed bandages.

“Get ready. I will drop you off at school,” his stepfather disappeared from the bedroom.

He shrugged into the white buttoned shirt and buttoned it before adding the black knitted. He put his black trouser and slipped his feet into the pair of black shoes. He picked his suitcase up and he entered the living room, dazing at the pair of smiling heterochromatic eyes.

“I am ready.”

They left the hotel and walked to the car in the parking lot, but his stepfather groaned, “I forgot my car key. Wait for me.” His stepfather went back to get it while Stiles leaned his back on the door of car.

“Oh my god.”

He jolted his head up to see the chocolate haired prostitute with a pair of hazel eyes—having a pair of gold hoop earrings and dressing up in a black elastic dress—and he furrowed his brows with a look of confusion. He had no idea who the woman was. He looked to the right and left, uncertainly pointing at himself.

The woman placed her hands on her sculptured hips, “He hurt you.” She pointed at his wrist.

He looked at his right wrist that displayed the ring of bruise, and he pulled the sleeve down to cover it. He frowned, “How do you know he hurt me?”

The woman showed a sincere concern, “I was a victim. You may want to stay away from him because he murdered his wife.”

He widened his eyes and he opened his mouth, but his stepfather showed up and pushed her. His stepfather demanded him to get in the car as he got into the driver’s seat. He drove out of the parking lot and onto the street.

“Oh that bitch. What did she say to you?”

He shrugged, “I have no idea what is she talking about. She’s lunatic.”

“Oh Stiles, forget about her,” his stepfather caressed the back of his neck sexually instead of comfortably.

He looked away from his stepfather and he leaned his head on the window, closing his eyes.

_What happened to his first wife? Did he really murder her?_

 

After arriving at school at around 7:23 pm, he walked with Nick to the Beta and he thanked him for ensuring him a safety. He came in and noticed that his roommates were not present, but he spotted a box wrapping with the plain brown paper. He put his suitcase down and he shredded the brown paper off the box. He opened it and he smiled at the brand new uniform. He lifted it in the air and he put them on the hanger before putting it in the shared closet.

He went to take a shower again.

_I am filthy._

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 8, 1958**

Derek stopped when his stepbrother’s roommate named Scott came up to him, and he asked, “What do you want?” Scott licked his lips nervously as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his black pants, “It’s about your stepbrother.”

He asked him what’s wrong with his stepbrother, and Scott explained that Stiles buried under the cover and refused to go to the class. Scott added, “I heard him weeping.”

He frowned, “Okay, thanks for letting me know. I am going to check on him right now.”

 

He opened the door of room 313 and he found a bump underneath the cover on the bed. He closed the door behind him to walk toward him and he sat next to him, “Stiles?”

He saw a sudden involuntary movement underneath the cover and  
He assumed that he scared him in his sleep. He asked, “Is there something you wish to talk about?” He patiently waited for him to respond, but...nothing.

“Stiles, talk to me.”

No respond.

He gave up by leaving the room and he went to the student council room before his first period would start in less than 25 minutes. He decided to call his father.

“This is George Hale.”

“Hi dad.”

“How are you, Derek?”

He sat down on the chair and put his left elbow on the arm of its chair, sighing, “How’s the vacation with Stiles in Santa Monica?”

“It was fun. Why?”

_Strange._

He gave a brief explanation about Stiles, so his father made a hum and spoke, “Probably, he must be homesick and also upset about the break up. It’s natural for him to feel that way. Please cheer him up.”

He chuckled, “That’s really strange of you being so concerned.” His father chuckled back, “I changed a lot. Isn’t it good?”

He smiled absently, “Yes, it is. Dad, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for class.”

“Take care, son.”

The line went dead.

 

****

______________________________ 

Stiles opted not to attend any classes, and then he decided to go to the cafeteria at the lunch time. He put his new uniform on before he left the room.

He walked with a tray in his hands and he tried not to wince at the sharp stings from his back. He felt hot flushes that started spreading all over his body and he hardly breathed, closing his eyes after finding a pair of heterochromatic eyes watch him. 

The flashbacks started.

He dropped his tray, staggering, as he heard his stepbrother shouting his name, but he fainted and collapsed to the floor.

 

****

______________________________ 

With a concern, Derek sat on the chair as he watched the nurse, David, putting the thermometer in stepbrother’s mouth. He asked him, “What’s wrong with him?”

He ignored him, pulling the thermometer out, and he went ahead to ask his stepbrother, “Stiles, did you eat properly?” As folding his hands, Derek looked at his stepbrother and he knew that he didn’t eat properly at home, too.

Stiles opened his mouth and he touched his throat, looking shocked.

David said, “Looks like you are not able to speak for while.” He removed the latex gloves and explained that his stepbrother could be stressed about something such as lifestyle and school. He informed him that it was normal, and he suggested him to cheer him up. He patted his shoulder gently, “Take it easy, okay?” Stiles nodded and got off the stool, following Derek who opened the door for him.

Derek and Stiles walked on the sidewalk, and he glanced at his stepbrother keeping his head down and pouting subtly in the corner of his eye. He sighed again when he caught some students secretively looking at them and gossiping.

_Even though they know he is my stepbrother, they still believe that he is my little lover._

He watched his stepbrother walking to sit under the tree, and he went ahead to sit next to him.

“What do you think of Santa Monica?”

No respond, but he noticed him rubbing his wrist under the sleeve of his brand new blazer absently.

“I know you are homesick, but my dad told me that you are still upset about the break up. Want to talk about it?”

No respond.

He leaned toward him a bit and he held his hands, “Stiles, is there something you wish to express?”

Stiles squirmed his hands out of his hands, screaming out of blue, and Derek let him go. He covered his mouth and nose with his hands and he sobbed, his body trembling, “I am sorry.”

“You talk.”

Stiles sniffled, “I am sorry for making you worried about me.”

Derek told him that it was his responsibility to look after him for his father and even his stepmother, and he made a brief comment, “My dad is really worried about you because ...”

Stiles flailed his arms angrily as he hissed, “Stop talking about him.”

Derek crossed his arms and he glared at him, “Stiles, I am trying to say that he is caring about you. You should thank him for showing his affection and protection toward you.”

Stiles stood up. 

Derek held him by placing his hands on his back and heard him whimpering, “Ow.”

Derek asked him, “Does it hurt?” He loved when his stepbrother looked over his shoulder, showing a pair of his whiskey eyes that glowed under the sunlight.

“Yes, your father and I played the soccer that was his favorite sport, and he accidentally kicked the ball to my back.”

_Soccer is not my dad’s favorite sport. It’s football. Maybe, he really changed._

Derek opened his mouth, but the sound of bell ringing interrupted him. Stiles walked away from him, and he gestured with his hands before turning his back to him, “Thanks for trying to cheer me up. See you around.”

Derek smiled with a simple nod.

_He’s definitely weird, but I think being weird is good._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super busy, so I didn't have a lot of free time to continue writing this story. Please, forgive me. I hope so. Let me know if you want me to update more chapters. If not, then this story MIGHT be abandoned.

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 9, 1958**

“Stiles,” Mr. Harris raised his brows and spoke solemnly, “Can you solve this?”

Stiles looked up from staring at his blank note and he gulped when Mr. Harris stared at him piercingly. He stood up and he nodded, so he picked up the chalk and began to write a balanced equation.

Mr. Harris looked pleased, “Which substance is oxidized in the reaction?”

Stiles almost scoffed, “Mg is oxidized.”

Mr. Harris nodded, “Very well, Stiles.” He tilted his head up slightly, and he clapped his hands together, “Please read chapter 3 and 4 tonight. Dismissed.”

_Piece of cake._

 

Stiles almost flinched when Scott touched his back, and he plastered a smile on his face. Scott placed the tray on the table and sat down next to him, “What’s up?”

Stiles shrugged, “Nothing much.”

Scott hummed before taking a big bite of sandwich, “Have you thought of joining lacrosse? I am a captain of lacrosse.”

Stiles glanced at him and he shook his head, “No, I don’t want to join any sports.”

Scott frowned, “What about clubs?”

Stiles shrugged, “I don’t know. Honestly, I feel like I am outsider.”

Scott shook his head, “No, you aren’t. I will help you to find something you might enjoy. Okay?”

Stiles smiled, “Thank you.”

After the lunch time, they went to see clubs until he was interested in joining the ceramic club, and the president of ceramic club helped him to fill out the forms. The president explained to him that the club usually opened during lunchtime.

Scott patted his back, “You’re an official member of the ceramic club. I think that’s awesome.”

Stiles nodded, “Thank you for helping me.” He heard the bell ringing, and he said, “I better go. See you later.” 

They went back to their classes in different directions.

 

****

______________________________

Derek walked forward from leaning on the wall next to the door of his stepbrother’s room as he showed a beaming grin.

Stiles flatly said, “Derek.”

Derek asked, “How are you doing?”

Stiles ran his fingers through his shaggy short hair, half-closing his eyes that revealed his dark eyelids, “I am great.”

Derek said, “Everything is cool?”

Stiles didn’t look at him, “Yes.”

Derek didn’t think that it was hard to befriend with his stepbrother, but he would try it. He asked him out of blue, “Do you want to hang out with me and my friends in my room?” He noticed him flickering his gaze from him to the door and opening his mouth apart.

Stiles bit his lips, “I would like to go with you, but today, I have a bad day.”

Derek wore a concerned look on his face as he burrowed his brows, “What happened?”

Stiles shrugged reaching the knob to open the door, “Just a big headache.”

Derek was about reaching his shoulder to give a gentle squeeze with a comfort, but Stiles stepped back and came into his room without looking at him, “Thanks for asking me. Bye, Derek.” Stiles closed the door in his face.

_What the hell is going on? Did he change his personality????_

Derek gave a soft groan and he left on way to his room in other building called Alpha. 

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 10, 1958**

After the school, Derek decided to take Stiles to ride on the boat when Stiles gave up and willingly went with him, and he earned a lot of whistles from boys. He had to snarl at them that would scare them off.

He was in the charge of paddling as he watched the back of his stepbrother who sat on the stern seat. He spotted some moles on the back of his neck, and all of sudden he wondered do moles scatter all over his body, other than his face and jaws.

Out of blue, he muttered, “Where are you born?”

“Venice, Italy.”

He hummed, “Tell me about your family.”

“My mama and her older sister, Angelina, were born in Warsaw, Poland, but they was raised in Bologna, Italy by their grandmother because their single mother abandoned them. Mmm, what an irresponsible mother. Um, they got older and they moved to Venice, Italy, independently. My mama happened to fall in love with my tata at first sight.”

He made a confused look, “Tata?”

“Tata means papa. They got married, and then...they made me.”

He continued asking, “What about your father?”

“His parents were from Bydgoszcz, Poland, but they moved to Venice, Italy, and they gave a birth to their child. That’s my father.”

He stopped paddling, “Where is your father?”

“He was as a lieutenant during WW2 and he was killed in a bomb in 1944.”

He stammered and he felt he had to punch himself in the face mentally, “I am sorry to ask you.”

“It’s fine. We had never met in person.”

He was surprised that Stiles calmly answered his questions without breaking his voice, and he decided to change a subject, “What does Venice look like?”

“You’ve never been there before?”

He relaxed his arms on his legs, “No.”

“Well, it’s hard to describe what it looks like, but I am telling you that it’s a beautiful city. Sometimes, I thought Venice is a floating island because we ride on the gondolas from place to place all the times.”

He tugged the corners of his lips upward as he could imagine what Venice looked like, “Sounds magnificent. What do you think of Beacon Hills, Los Angles, and other place...Santa Monica?” He glanced at Isaac behind the tree waving creepily and he gestured him to get out.

“They’re ugly.”

He glanced back to his back again and he frowned, feeling an urge to disagree with him. He opened his mouth, but Stiles looked over his left shoulder and he spoke, “My hometown is better than yours.”

He laughed, “You’re right.” His stepbrother finally tugged the corner of his lips into a tiny smirk. He continued asking him stupid questions—What is your favorite color?, what is your favorite animal?, what hobbies do you like to do?—, so he was able to learn more about him. He realized that the sky is about darkening soon, and he thought of asking him one more time.

“Another stupid question.”

Stiles who sat in front of him rolled his eyes and threw his hands in air.

“What is your...favorite flower?”

Stiles froze.

“Derek, I want to go back to my room.”

_Did I say something wrong? Are you mad at me for asking you a girly question?_

The smile on Stiles face was immediately gone.

 

Standing outside the dormitory aka Beta, Derek didn’t know how to say to Stiles since they did not talk at all just after the question about the favorite flower. He dug his hands into the pockets of the pair of his trousers, and he sighed, “Did I say something wrong?”

Stiles licked his lips nervously and he shook his head, “You didn’t.” He stepped back and turned around on his heel to enter the building without giving him any explanations that would be mysterious, very remained confused though. 

Derek rubbed his hand down his face and he made a resigned sigh. He shrugged, “Whatever.” He went back to his room at Alpha.

_It’s hard to befriend with him._

 

****

______________________________

The water from the showerhead was pounding against the top of his head, Stiles bit his gum inside until he tasted the blood flowing onto his tongue. He cursed under his breath as he pressed his hands on the tiled wall, hitching a breath. His stepbrother asked him a question about the favorite flower that made him remember the vivid flashback of his nightmare that there were petals of lotuses spreading all over the white blanket and he was on hands and knees, being fucked by his stepfather.

He silently sobbed.

_Help me, Derek. Oh god, anyone can help me._

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 12, 1958**

Derek followed his stepbrother coming into the living room and watched his father and stepmother engulfing his stepbrother in a hug. He had to admit that he was jealous of his stepbrother that he received more affection than him and even his sister, Cora, did. He noticed two people standing behind them and he cried out happily, “Laura! Peter!”

Laura, the woman with sleek black hair and a pair of dark brown eyes, opened her arms and laughed when he wrapped his arms around her. Peter ruffled his hair as he chuckles. Derek heard his father speaking, “Laura. Peter. I would like to introduce my stepson, Stiles. Stiles, this is my daughter, Laura, and Peter is their uncle. He’s a younger brother of my late wife.”

Laura gasped, “Oh my god. What a beautiful child you have, Claudia.” 

His stepmother blushed furiously as she caressed the back of his stepbrother’s neck motherly, “Thank you, Laura.” 

Laura walked away from Derek and she cooed at Stiles, “You remind me of Bambi!”

Stiles’ cheeks grew red and he grinned, “Really?” Laura nodded and she grabbed his hand, “Yes, you are. Your mother told me that you need new clothes, so I am here to take you to the mall. Are you ready to go?”

He almost yelled his approval, and he stammered with shy smile, “Um, yes. I would like to go right now.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and she walked him out of the living room before saying ‘see you later’ to the family.

Derek scowled at the fact that his stepbrother easily smiled at his sister when they met first time. When they met first time, Stiles didn’t smile at all.

_What the hell? I am working so hard to make him smile! How did my sister do that!?_

 

****

______________________________

Stiles carried eight bags as he walked into the bedroom. He dropped them to the door and he slumped on the bed, so exhausted. Of course, it was a nightmare to go shopping with his stepsister, Laura, who demanded him to look fabulous. He took a nap for a little while until he wake up at eight thirty, and he went to the kitchen.

Stephanie pressed the telephone to her chest and she chirped happily, “Oh good, you wake up. It’s Heather, would you wish to talk to her right now?”

He made a grabby hand, so she handed it over to him. He hid himself in the small closet and sat down on the floor. He couldn’t help smiling, “Heather!”

“Stiles! How are you doing in Beacon Hills?”

He leaned back to the wall and he sighed, “It was okay. It doesn’t look like Venice.”

“That’s awful. Stiles, did you get my letter?”

He straightened up as he frowned slightly, “Um, no.”

“Maybe, your mother has it. Stiles. I am sorry for being mad at you. You told me about the man? I was not sure. I am trying to understand why you did that.”

He felt an urge to itch his body, closing his eyes, and his heart pounded heavily, “No, everything was my fault. It was a mistake.”

“Oh I see, will you forgive me? I know our relationship ended, but I always think about you and I still love you. It’s better if we would remain as friends.”

He shed tears without making any noises, “Yes, we should.”

“I wish I could give you a final kiss. Oh, Let’s kiss over the phone.” 

He kissed her virtually. They continued talking for one hour and thirty minutes until she said that she had to go that broke his heart because he had to go back to his bedroom which meant he would see his stepfather.

_Help me._

He went to see his mother in the living room and sat next to her.

“Mama, do you have the letters from Heather?”

His mother shook her head with a pout, “No, I don’t. Why?”

He curled his hands into fists subtly and he stood up, “Nothing. Good night, mama.” He turned around on his heel.

_Bastard._

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 13, 1958**

Derek noticed Stephanie shaking her head and asked her what’s wrong, so she replied, “Stiles refused letting me to clean his bedroom. Right now, he’s washing his own blanket, sheets, and everything, that’s my job.”

He made a smirk, “Oh, I bet he’s embarrassed.”

She made a frown, “Why?”

He scoffed, amused by her not having a idea at all, “He masturbated last night, so you would know why.”

She gasped with wide eyes, “Oh goodness.”

 

He went to the dining room to join the breakfast with his family except Stiles, but Stiles later joined them later. He heard his sister, Cora, talking, “Stiles, your eyes are really red.”

Laura opened her mouth to make a comment, but George shut them up quickly and told them not to speak about his face. She pressed her lips into a thin line, looking so concerned for Stiles. 

Derek stole a glance of his stepbrother’s face and noticed how red his eyes were. He assumed that he didn’t sleep well last night.

 

After the breakfast, his sister had to go downtown, just outside Beacon Hills, for a fashion event, and his uncle decided to visit his friends. His father took his wife to visit his friends on other side of Beacon Hills.

As walking behind Stiles through the woods, Derek tried to get him to socialize with him, “I used to invite students from our school and Academy of Our Lady of Peace for a bonfire party every summer, and we had a peculiar game. I participated for catching some girls for only kissing. Some girls would volunteer as omegas for sacrificing their virginities to some boys who will play as alphas would catch them first.” He chuckled, “One of them could be pregnant if a boy could be stupid for not wearing a condom.”

Stiles looked over his shoulder as he opened his mouth to make a suitably cutting retort, “That’s the stupidest game I’ve ever heard in my life.” He huffed, jerking his head away from him.

Derek grinned, “Oh really? It’s fun!” He ran toward Stiles, “I am going to catch you!” He felt amused when his stepbrother jumping up and starting to run with scream. He dodged over the tree and jumped over the log, feeling amazed how his stepbrother ran that fast.

Stiles shouted angrily, but later he started to laugh as he gracefully dodged every tree and log. Derek easily pictured him as an angel with a pair of large white wings.

They happened to run toward each other in same direction that surprised them, and there was no way to stop themselves from crashing their bodies together. They rolled down on the small slope and hit the tree trunk with green mush.

Lying on his back, Derek opened his eyes and he widened his eyes when he realized that his lips locked with his stepbrother’s. He involuntarily held his slender hip as he watched him leaning back. It was an intimate position that his stepbrother straddled him and pressed his hands on his chest. 

Stiles quickly came to his sense when he stood up and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He made a wince.

Derek stood up and touched his shoulder, “Does your back still hurt?”

Blushing, Stiles pushed his hand off and he turned his back to him.

Derek grinned, “It was an accident.” He earned a piercing glare from him, and he lifted his hands in air, “I swear! We can pretend this never happen.”

Stiles sauntered up to the slope without looking back.

Derek smiled without awareness. 

_He’s pretty sensitive. He’s really beautiful when he looked at me, really closer. I could see how long and thick his eyelashes were and how his lips shaped, definitely cupid’s bow. I don’t mind kissing him again. Honestly, I felt a spark when we accidentally kissed and...I involuntary wrapped my hands around his hips._

Coming to his sense, he looked at the sky and he made a groan of frustration, “What’s wrong with me?”

 

****

______________________________

Stiles walked through the woods, and he touched his lips, feeling like he couldn’t believe that they accidentally kissed. In the point, why he felt his heart fluttering with strange excitement.

He pushed that question to the back of his head as he shook his head with a scoff, muttering, “There is no such thing as love.” He started to sign the lullaby in French as he slowed down his pace. 

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 14, 1958**

In the morning, Derek checked on his uncle in the bedroom, but he wasn’t there. He asked Alfred if he would know where was Peter, and Alfred said that his uncle took his sister and they went back home.

He thanked him, so he went to check on his stepbrother by opening the door without his permission. Of course, it was locked. He knocked on the door and he stepped back, waiting for him to open it.

The door was open, very slow.

All he saw was no sign of Stiles; probably, Stiles hid himself behind the door. He heard him whispering and he noticed that his voice became hoarse, “Um, what do you want?”

He said, “Breakfast?”

“Tell Stephanie to bring the breakfast tray and put it down at my door. Please.”

He arched his brow, but wasn’t about asking him why, “Okay. I will be glad to be messenger, Stiles.”

“Thank you, Derek.” 

 

****

______________________________

Stiles sighed at the reflection of his hickeys dotting on his hips and chest in the mirror before putting the long-sleeved white shirt. He sat on the floor and he stared at the door, biting his nails nervously. He hated seeing the projectile flashbacks splash in front of his eyes and heard his stepfather chuckling dryly and ordering him to do something sexual such as stripping his clothes off and opening his legs for him. He clenched his fists above his head and muttered, looking around when he heard something cracking, but nothing was there, “Help me. Help me. Help me.”

Being startled, he made a soft gasp when he heard the three knocks on the door and Stephanie speaking, “Your breakfast. Please, take it right away before it is getting cold, Stiles.”

He shouted, “Thank you, Stephanie!”

He crawled to the door and opened it slowly. He pulled the breakfast tray back and closed the door quickly. He started to eat pancakes despite his throat hurt so much.

 

****

______________________________

Derek watched Stephanie walking down the stairs as he crossed his arms, “Did you see him?”

She shook her head, wearing a concerned expression on her face, as she shrugged, “No. I think he’s having a sore throat.” She pressed her lips together, tapping her finger on her chin, and she smiled, “I am going to make some tea for him. Derek, do you want me to call the driver to pick you up this evening?”

He shook his head, “Let me think about it.”

She nodded, “Okay, please inform Alfred or me.” She left.

He sat on the stair and he looked at the west wing, feeling a twinge of concern inside of him. 

 

****

______________________________

His stepmother frowned as she took her coat off before handing it over to Alfred who held his father’s black coat, “He’s staying in his bedroom all day? That’s strange. I am going to check on him.”

He just watched his father interrupting her, “Claudia, I will do that for you.”

_Um, I don’t think he would not let you come in. I tried that earlier._

He followed his gaze on him walking up the stairs and listening to his footsteps that softly stomped toward his stepbrother’s bedroom. He walked up to the middle of the stairway and watched him knocking on the door. Of course, the door was open ajar; it was the same pattern in this morning.

He squinted at him muttering something, and he widened his eyes in disbelief that Stiles let him come in and closed the door shut.

_What in the world is going on._

 

****

______________________________

The sound of something cracking was echoing through his ears, Stiles sat on the window seat and he muttered, “George, where are my letters? Just answer my damn question.”

His stepfather chuckled, “Oh, your voice became hoarse, really beautiful.”

Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line and kept his gaze on the pillow on the window seat, exhaling through his nose angrily. He glared at him, “Tell me.”

His stepfather spoke as he placed his hands on his hips, looking so honest, “I don’t have them. I am telling you a truth.”

Stiles whispered harshly instead of screaming, “You big fat liar. Get out of my bedroom.”

His stepfather’s face drained all of its color as he scowled angrily, “You will earn a punishment tonight. Be prepared.” He turned around on his heel and left the bedroom, closing the door shut.

Stiles leaned down on the pillow to bury his face and he muffled his scream.

 

 

****

______________________________

Derek chewed the piece of meat as he watched his father sitting down. His stepfather made a shrug, “He’s having a sore throat. That would explain why he’s staying in the bedroom all day.”

His stepmother acknowledged it by humming in agreement and she continued cutting the meat into the pieces, “Well, he usually takes care of himself. He will be fine, George.”

His stepfather nodded, “Okay. Derek, are you leaving tonight?”

Derek nodded, “Yes, after this dinner.”

_Wait a minute, is Stiles coming with me? I better ask him before I leave._

 

He knocked on the door and saw no sign of Stiles when the door was open ajar. He heard him whispering, “What do you want?”

He said, “Do you want to come with me to the school?” He heard him gasping and stammering, “Wh-When?”

He replied, “In less than ten minutes.”

The door was closed.

He blinked, confused by his bizarre behavior, for a while, and he arched his brows when the door was open that revealed Stiles dressing up in his casual outfit and holding his suitcase. Stiles looked so super ready.

Stiles said, “Can we go now?” Derek had to admit that he’s totally confused by his random decisions as if he was having a splitting personality, and he stepped back, “Yes, let’s go.”

They walked down the stairs and saw their parents standing next to the main door. His father made a grin, “Stiles, you are leaving, too? I think you should stay here until you get better.” His stepmother agreed, too.

Stiles ignored him and responded to his mother, “I’ll be fine, mama.” His mother smiled and hugged him before walking him to the car outside.

Derek said, “Dad. I will look after him. I mean, why everyone is worried about him?”

His father made a honest answer, “He’s everyone’s favorite, so everyone is worried about him.”

_True._

 

****

______________________________

Stiles had to cry with tears of joy mentally when the driver started to drive, and he didn’t have to receive a punishment tonight. He had to thank his stepbrother for asking him at a last minute. If it wasn’t his stepbrother, then he had to suffer tonight.

He heard him speaking, “Stiles, I need help with my chemistry. Just three questions. You are taking AP chemistry?”

He nodded, “Yes, I am.” He glanced at him pulling his folders out of his satchel, so he started to help him by giving him simplified explanations and showing him how to solve the problem in easy way. 

“Wow, it’s blowing my mind,” his stepbrother amazingly stared at the easy method of solving the problem while he still heard the sound of something cracking. He looked around to see where the sound came from, and he heard him speaking, “Stiles? You okay?”

He looked back to him and he muttered, “I am perfectly okay.” 

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 17, 1958**

Hearing the sound of something cracking, Stiles tried to solve the problem on the chalkboard, but stopped writing when Dr. Argent tapped his knuckles on the doorframe and informed Mr. Harris that Stiles needed to be dismissed for a personal reason.

Stiles packed up his papers and some supplies before putting them in the leather satchel and leaving the class. He walked with Dr. Argent and he couldn’t help feeling anxious, but Dr. Argent told him that he was not in trouble.

They were in his office.

Stiles sat down on the chair and he looked over his shoulder to see Derek coming in with a confused look. He asked Dr. Argent, “What’s going on?”

Dr. Argent sat on the desk, sighing, “I got a call from your father. It’s about your mother.”

Stiles stood up and he cried out, ignoring the sharp pang that Derek held his shoulders where his stepfather hurt last night, “Is she okay?”

Dr. Argent said, “She’s in the hospital. I don’t know any of the details, although the driver will pick you up soon.”

 

Stiles and Derek came in the waiting room and found Cora standing up from the waiting chair. She made a distressed expression, placing her hands on the side of her head, as she cried out, “She is going to die!” 

Stiles suddenly thought of his stepfather doing something horrible to her, and he barked, “Where is my mama?” She pointed at the room, so he quickly came in. He stopped and lost his breath at the sight of his mother lying down on the bed next to his stepfather who stood. His mother covered her eyes with her hands.

 _What’s going on?_

“Is she okay?” someone asked.

He turned around and he saw Peter standing between Derek and Cora at the door. He shrugged, “What happened?”

Peter said, “We found her lying down on the floor and we assumed that she accidentally fell down on the stairs. She was unconscious for while. We tried to wake her up, but she didn’t respond well.”

_Oh god, my stepfather is trying to kill her!_

Stiles turned around and he opened his mouth to scream at his stepfather, but his stepfather screamed, “Peter! It’s all your fault. You didn’t pay attention when my wife fell down! What you have done to her!”

Cora defended Peter, placing her hands on her hips and standing with her legs apart like Wonder Woman, as she asserted aggressively, “We weren’t there at that time because he supervised me riding the horse. Don’t blame anybody for not being there at that time.”

His stepfather screamed, “Shut up!”

She stepped back, pressing her lips into a thin line, as Peter held her shoulders behind him. Peter took her out of the room, “You have no rights to yell at her!”

His stepfather scoffed, “She’s not my real daughter!”

Peter scowled, “Yes, she is yours! Damn you, I am taking her to live with me.”

His stepfather scowled, “Fine! I am glad to see her leaving my house!”

Peter shook his head and he got her out of the room.

Stiles bulged his eyes out in utterly disbelief and he looked at Derek tightening his jaws and staring at his father. His stepfather sharply exhaled and rubbed his temple with his fingers, “I almost lost my wife. You have no idea how shocked I was when I got a call at work.”

_What in the world is going on?_

He greeted his mother by hugging her and asked her what happened, but she didn’t give him an explanation. All she told him was not to worry. He didn’t want to lose her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter (: The mistakes are mine.

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 19, 1958**

Derek completed his homework before nine o’clock and he went to check on his stepmother. He sat on the chair next to her and watched her sipping the tea, “How do you feel right now?”

She tugged the corners of her lips into a gentle smile, “I am feeling better. Thanks for worrying about me.” She touched his kneecap as she made an exhausted sigh, “Is Stiles doing really okay at school beside his academic duties?”

He held her hand, “Yes, he’s hanging out with his friends, Scott and other guy, um...I don’t know his name. He’s shy at socializing, I think.”

She squinted, almost amused, “Shy? I don’t think so.” Glancing away from him, she mumbled, “I am going to sleep now.” He picked a teacup and a spoon and put them on the tray and held the tray before leaving the bedroom. He closed the door behind him and he went to the kitchen to drop the tray off at the countertop and inform Stephanie that his stepmother was sleeping right now.

He walked up on the stairs and he sauntered toward his bedroom, but he heard some strange noise coming from his stepbrother’s bedroom. He walked to that door and tapped his knuckles on the door, but his stepbrother did not respond. 

“Stiles?” he reached the knob, but the door was opened. He stepped back and realized that it was his father stepping out of the bedroom. His father closed the door behind him and he smiled, “Derek, it’s past your bedroom.”

Derek crossed his arms and he asked, “What’s going on there?” 

His father informed him, “We had a private conversation. He didn’t want anyone to know, so it’s not none of your business.” He patted his shoulder, “I am going to bed, good night.” 

Derek looked at his back and muttered, “Good night.” He looked over his shoulder and stared at the door.

_No one including his mother can enter his bedroom, but my father can. Maybe, he feels comfortable and secure around my father._

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 21, 1958**

Since the early morning, Stiles cleaned every inch of his bedroom and bathroom and set the fire on each incense sticks he bought at the mall when he went shopping with his stepsister a few days ago and he tried to mask the reek of sex he loathed. He finished his chores at 6:30 pm. He went to sit on the window seat and watched through the window, finding his mother kissing his stepfather on the lips that made him gag because last night, his stepfather sucked him off. That’s disgusting to see that.

He pulled his legs up to his chest and leaned his head on his kneecaps, keeping going to glance at them until his stepfather made angry gestures at Peter when Peter and Cora showed up. He recalled that his stepfather made a strange claim that she wasn’t his biological daughter. 

Wow, there was a dramatic scene: his stepfather swung his fist toward Peter in the cheek, Peter fell on his butt, and Derek wrapped his arms around his father to stop him, but his stepfather elbowed him in the either chin or nose. Derek covered his mouth with his hand; the trick of blood soaked through his fingers. Looked like his lips possibly split and bled.

Cora screamed in panic.

Stiles ran out of the bedroom and stepped out of the main door, happening to hear his stepfather shout, “She is not my child, Peter. You know that.” Peter made a sarcastic scoff and he took her to his car. Apparently, they left again.

Stiles glanced at Derek scowling and running toward the woods, so he crossed his arms and kept his gaze on his stepfather who was comforted by his mother. He decided to know what’s going on, and he could think of asking Derek some questions.

 

****

______________________________

Derek realized that someone followed him and he looked over his shoulder. He muttered, “What are you doing?”

Stiles handed the handkerchief to him without saying anything.

_He’s worrying about me. It’s first time to have someone, other than Peter and Laura, who is worried about me genuinely._

Derek took it to his lips and he thanked him, so they went to the lake house.  
He opened the door and let his stepbrother come in before him. He closed the door behind him and he went to the living room to lie down on the sofa. 

Stiles sat on the loveseat across him.

“Um, Stiles? Is there something you want to say?”

Stiles said, “Is that true?”

“About Cora? Why she looked different than the rest of us? Unfortunately, it’s not true because we had her blood tested. Therefore, she is the Hale.”

Stiles squinted at him suspiciously, “Why your father denied that?”

“He strongly believes that my late mother cheated on him with some man, but it isn’t true at all,” Derek ran his fingers through his hair and whispered, “I don’t know why he thought that way. My mom would never cheat on him.”

Stiles bit the nail of his thumb.

“Did you notice something different in the house?”

Stiles moved his head up and burrowed his brows, confused by the question, so Derek gave a hint, “Did you see any pictures in the house? Anywhere?” He widened his eyes, “No, there are no pictures.”

Derek smiled sadly, “Everything was kept in the basement right below us. My father couldn’t stand seeing them because it would give him flashbacks. Sometimes, he told me that I looked my mother.”

_I missed my mother._

Stiles hummed, “Your father is really strange.”

Derek sat up, shrugging, “Sometimes, he is. Um, I should go.” He stood up while his stepbrother asked him where he would go, and he replied, “Fuck Bethany to relieve my stress.”

Stiles almost stammered as he kept his head down, turning his back to him, “Well, have fun.” He quickly left.

Derek covered his eyes with his hand, cursing under his breath, “Fuck.”

 

****

______________________________

_Of course, he’s like his father. All they think is about sex._

Deciding not to go back to the house, Stiles wandered past the stores on the streets and bit his nails with smirk.

_I got a little information about his mother. His father believed that she cheated on him with some unknown man and got pregnant with Cora, but it was not true. Oh yeah, the prostitute made a claim that he killed her. Possibly, he believed that and killed her._

“Stiles!”

He turned around and he gasped, “Scott!”

“Oh, your finger is bleeding.”

He looked to his finger where he bit without feeling the pain, and he smiled, “Oh, shit.” Scott grabbed his wrist to drag him into the cafe.

_Do not touch me. Do not touch me._

He saw a woman with black curly hair sitting at the booth and heard Scott asking her if she had a bandage in her purse. She smiled, “Of course, I do. Who is he?”

Scott gently pushed him down to the seat, so he sat down and introduced him to her, “Mommy, this is Stiles I’ve been talking about.” His mother gave a happy gasp, “Oh, yes. I am glad to see you in person! I am Melissa McCall. Just call me Melissa. Nice to meet you.”

Stiles smiled, “Nice to meet you, too. Oh thanks.” He received a bandage from her and she explained, “I always bring a kit-aid with me all the times because...” Scott muttered, “She’s a head nurse at the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.”

She nodded and she asked him if he’s hungry. He nodded, so she called a waitress to make another order. That’s sweet of her; he liked her now.

She smiled, “You’re Hale now. Everyone knows about it.”

He shrugged, “Well, yeah. You know them well?”

She shook her head, “No. I knew Talia Hale well.” He desired for more information, so he asked, “Anyone knows why she passed away?” 

Both Melissa and Scott exchanged an look and he shrugged, so she said, “She...committed suicide by drowning herself in the lake. Just a couple of months after she gave a birth to Cora. Again, everyone in this small town knows.”

Stiles opened his mouth, but the waitress came up with their foods and told them to enjoy their dinner. They stopped talking about Talia Hale, but they talked about something else such as his hometown and his family.

_I am not convinced yet._

 

****

______________________________

Bethany abandoned his cock, “You’re not getting it up.” She swung her legs to the edge of the bed and grabbed her bra that draped over the headboard, so she put it on. She spoke, “Sorry, I tried!”

Derek made a frustrated groan, “Thanks, Bethany.” He lied down and stared at the ceiling. Yeah, they didn’t have sex because he couldn’t get it up. He wondered why.

_Derek, you know why._

He shook his head, “Bethany?” She pulled the skirt up and buttoned it, “Yeah.”

He gulped, “Do you think I don’t get it up because....I am falling in love with someone?”

She burst out laughing, “What’s wrong with you today?”

_Fuckin’ great, I am asking a wrong person._

 

****

______________________________

Laying his left hand on his stepfather’s chest, Stiles covered his mouth with his right hand and thrust onto the fat erect cock. The pair of hands of his stepfather slid down his back and gripped his hips to push him down onto the cock deep. The moan escaped from his mouth.

He leaned down to his chest, rolling his hips, as he bit his bottom lip when his stepfather licked behind his ear. He let him to change the position when his stepfather rolled him on his back and thrust his hips forward faster. He panted heavily, dazing into the pair of his heterochromatic eyes, as the tears gathered in his eyes.

_Nobody loves me._

His stepfather wrapped his hand around his cock and slid it down and up, “You’re really obedient tonight.” He managed to make him come, and then he continued to pound into him more, telling him to scream for him, but Stiles shook his head.

“We are in the house.”

“Okay, I want to hear you say ‘I am yours’.”

Stiles stifled his moan when his stepfather found his sweet spot, and he whispered softly, “I am yours....”

“I am falling for you more. Stiles, on your stomach,” His stepfather pulled his cock out and he went to get his leather whip.

_Oh, you really love me. But I don’t love you._

Rolling to his stomach, he closed his eyes shut as he covered his ears with his hands when he heard the cracking sound again.

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 22, 1958**

At 1:30 am, Derek opened the door slowly and closed it behind him carefully. He tiptoed up the stairs and toward his bedroom, but he heard a strange noise coming from his stepbrother’s bedroom. He walked toward that door and pressed his ear against it, trying to pick up the sounds.

Oh.

Oh.

Shit, his stepbrother was actually moaning.

He stepped back and returned to his bedroom. He sat on the bedroom and stared at the wall.

_That’s a sweetest forbidding moan I’ve ever heard in my life._

He made a groan as he lied down.

 

He woke up to the birds chirping loudly, and he groaned, “Fuck.” He got ready for the school today, so he went down to the dining room for the breakfast Stephanie prepared. He spotted Stiles sitting alone and eating pancakes.

He sat across him and asked him, “Where’s everyone?”

Stiles shrugged as he chewed another piece of pancakes, keeping his gaze on the pile of four pancakes. Stephanie came in with a plate—a pile of four pancakes with chocolate chips—and a glass of cold milk, so she put them on Derek’s plate mat, “Here you go. You better hurry up or you will be late for your school.” She left.

Stiles finished his breakfast and he stood up, but he winced and he touched his left shoulder.

Derek asked, “Your back still hurts? I think you should go to see the doctor.”

Stiles hissed without looking at him, “Leave me alone.” He stormed out of the dining room.

_His personality always changes like a mood ring._

Derek shook his head and went ahead to finish his breakfast.

 

 

****

**Beacon Hills, California—September 24, 1958**

Stiles stared at his chipped nails as he listened to his AP English teacher lecturing something he didn’t pay attention. Something was not worth to pay attention, really seriously. His heart was pounding faster, he widened his eyes at the wall starting to crack and falling apart.

He stood up and he screamed, “No!” 

“Stiles? Why you disagreed?”

He came to his sense and he looked at the wall again. Oh, it indicated no signs of cracks. He slowly glanced around the classroom and realized that everyone looked at him. He packed everything in his satchel and explained, “I need to go to the infirmary because I don’t feel well.”

His teacher was super sweet, “Oh goodness, get a rest. Don’t worry about homework. Go.”

Before thanking her, he left the class.

He bit his nails.

_What’s that?_

He had no answer for that, so he walked to the infirmary. He explained to David that he didn’t feel well and he wanted to rest, so David checked his temperature, “You have a fever. 101 degrees.” David put him to the bed in the stall and gave him a pill before he went to sleep like a stone.

 

****

______________________________

During the lunchtime, Derek looked for his stepbrother and he asked his friends, but they didn’t know where he was. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he sighed, “You know where is he?”

Isaac shrugged, “Yeah, he’s in the infirmary. By the way, he acted strangely in his first period, like screaming in middle of the teacher’s lecture, according to the bunch of his classmates whispering and spreading the news.”

Derek squinted suspiciously wanting to know what’s going on with his brother, so he went to check on him in the infirmary. He greeted David by whispering, and the nurse told him that his stepbrother was profoundly sleeping due to the side effect of the medicine for his fever. He assumed that the nurse didn’t know about his bizarre behavior that happened in the first period. He sat down on the chair next to him and watched him sleeping, so peaceful.

He sighed, “You’re really difficult, you know that.” He reached his stepbrother’s chin, not realizing what he was doing, as he caressed the pad of his thumb across his cupid bow lips gently. He noticed the tooth mark that created swelling drops of blood on his bottom lips, and he finally realized that his stepbrother always bit his lips all the times.

“Sometimes, I am worrying about you. I feel like you are hiding something from me or you are just hating me. I wish you could open up to me because I won’t judge you.”

 

****

______________________________

_You are hiding something from me. ___

__Stiles gasped and arched his body upward before slumping. His hands trembled and his breath became shallow. He felt his uniform clinging to his whole body that was moisturized with disgusting sweats and he definitely needed a shower._ _

__He sat up and he wheezed, “David? David? I don’t feel good, oh my god.” He saw David who looked so concerned approaching toward him, and he could see the room spinning around him. He fell on his back and noticed the ceiling that started to crack._ _

___Oh no, not that again._ _ _

__David was about touching his forehead, but Stiles hissed, “Do not touch me.” He frowned, “Fine, I will check your temperature.” So, he used the thermometer and placed it in his mouth, so he informed him, “You have a high fever. 103 degrees.” He pulled it out._ _

__Stiles curled into a ball and wrapped his arms around his legs, glancing through the window and realizing that it was dark already, probably seven thirty. He whispered, “Am I dying?”_ _

__David shook his head, “No, you aren’t.” He nursed him by putting the warm cloth on his forehead and feeding him a chicken soup. He called the Beta supervisor to get his clothes. Stiles might not go to school tomorrow, but he would stay in the guest room—for only sick students—that adjoined to the infirmary._ _

__Stiles was in the guest room and he heard the door closing shut. Ah, the sound of something was cracking loudly. He slowly looked over his shoulder and he bit his bottom lips, staring at the wall that revealed something—a black figure—stepping out._ _

__Stiles turned his back to that big figure and pulled the cover over his head, keeping his eyes closed and hoping it was gone. It didn’t help at all, so he counted sheep until he fell asleep._ _

__

__****_ _

**Beacon Hills, California—October 3, 1958**

The incense sticks surrounded him in the perfect circle; Stiles had his legs pulling up to his chest. He sang the lullaby in French, closing his eyes, and he still heard the sound of something cracking. He straightened up and froze when he heard a knock on the door.

“It’s me, Stephanie.”

He stood up and stepped over the incense stick releasing its smoke beautifully. He opened the door ajar and he smiled, “Yes, may I help you?”

She spoke, “Have you seen Derek?”

He shook his head, “No, I don’t.”

She frowned with a shrug, “All right.”

He still heard that sound again and he asked her, pointing at the wall, “Did you hear that?”

She frowned with a confused look, so he made a clarification, “Something is cracking.” She shook her head, “No.”

He gulped and told her not to worry about it because it was a stupid question. All she gave him was a silly chuckle before she left. He closed the door and he turned around with wide eyes, covering his mouth with his mouth.

_I am the only one who hear that?_

 

****

______________________________

Derek arched his brows, “You like me, Daisy?” Daisy, the new maid who just started to work two days ago, nodded and she placed her hands on his bared chest, giggling, “Yes.” He liked her despite the fact that she was older than him by five years, but the age gap didn’t concern him at all.

He pushed her down on the sofa and guided his cock—covering with condom—into her vagina slowly, observing her expression to make sure she’s not having any pain, until she whispered, “Fuck me, harder. Please.”

He grinned as he thrust his hips forward, earning a loud moan from her.

 

****

______________________________

Stiles left the bedroom, feeling calm when the sound stopped when he walked through the woods. One thing popped up in his mind: seeing something good in the basement below the lake house. He decided to do that as he walked toward the lake house.

He opened the door and he widened his eyes in shock when his stepbrother practically fucked the maid named Daisy who moaned lustfully. He heard him saying, “Oh god, you’re so wet.”

He started to scream when he heard the voice of his stepfather, “Oh god, you’re so wet.”

 

****

______________________________

Derek quickly came to his mind when he heard a scream behind him, and he pulled his cock out of her vagina. He grabbed the brief to put it on while she dressed up in hurry. He walked toward him and grabbed his shoulder, but he made it worse when his stepbrother screamed with tears, “Don’t touch me! You beast!” His stepbrother slapped him in the cheek and shoved him before storming off.

That broke his heart.

She gulped, “Do you think he will tell them about us? I don’t want to lose my job.”

He exhaled through his nose and he spoke, “Get back to work. I need to talk with him.” She nodded and she went to the bathroom to fix her hair and anything before she left.

_Fuck._

 

****

______________________________

Derek found Stiles, the boy who slept, sitting next to his mother who sang the lullaby in Polish, and he heard his father whispering, “Why he cried? Did something happen between you and him?”

Derek gulped, “Something he shouldn’t see.”

His father arched his brows that showed he knew obviously, “Oh I see. Be more discreet, Derek.” He gave him a piercing glare before walking to sit next to his stepbrother.

His stepmother’s eyes fixated on her son with a concern expression that splashed on her face, “Oh dear, he’s not the same Stiles I know.” She made a depressing sigh, “He’s always spending his time in his bedroom lately. Now, he’s crying. Oh dear, what’s wrong with my son.” 

Derek left them alone to worry about Stiles, just like what his father said that he was everyone’s favorite. He would find other time to talk with him about the incident in the lake house, and he would apologize for that.

 

****

______________________________

Stiles opened his eyes and stared at his stepfather’s hand on his leg. He almost freaked out, but the voice of his mother calmed him motherly, “Stiles, would you tell us why you cried?”

Stiles licked his lips and he almost widened his eyes when he heard something cracking on the wall behind her, “Nothing.” She cupped his cheeks with her hands and she whispered in Polish to tell him that she’s very worried about him. He wrapped his hands around her and kept his legs away from him.

His mother said, “I think you should rest in your bedroom.”

_No, not that bedroom._

His stepfather spoke eerily, “Do it. Stop worrying your mother.”

Stiles knew he should go to the bedroom and later would get fucked. He bit his gum inside, tasting his blood, and he nodded, “I will.”

 

Stiles grunted when his stepfather pounded against his prostration, and he curled his hands into fists, pressing his lips into a thin line instead of screaming. His stepfather moved him to lie on his side, so he was able to find a better angle. He slowly thrust.

“Oh god, you’re so wet. Come on, let me hear your sweet scream.”

Stiles sobbed and covered his face with his hands, “No. no. no.” He felt him pulling his cock out and he looked to the left, seeing him get his mask on and have his whip ready. He rolled to his stomach and he bit the pillow. He spotted something on the wall and he widened his eyes when the black figure fell out of the wall and thudded on the floor.

He stifled his scream when he earned one lash, and he gasped when the black figure slowly stood up to his feet and moved his head up. He covered his mouth, grunting when second lash stung his back, as he become terrified.

The black figure was a version of him, but his body was filling with bruises and cuts. The trickles of blood from his eyes rolled down his cheeks as he wept in distress, “Help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Stiles is seeing another him. It is not just a normal hallucination.


End file.
